A Little Lunacy
by BellonaBellatrix
Summary: All good plans go awry sometimes. Luna can attest to that. Her first year was a strange one, and Luna decides to take matters into her own hands. In her sixth, she sees too much and pays the price. TRLL
1. Default Chapter

Summary: Luna Lovegood has a weird first year

Summary: Luna Lovegood has a weird first year. Her sixth year is even stranger as her whole world changes.

Pairing: Tom Riddle/Luna Lovegood

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author notes: Sincerest thanks to my beta-reader, Mistress Siana.

Chapter 1

Ouroboros

For what it was worth, Luna Lovegood loved many things, both the obtainable and quite the opposite.

Sometimes she simply felt too deeply and her short coming was in letting others know. Why keep in thoughts? Surely they were made to be spoken. What else were they there for, and if she tried to hold it in, she found she couldn't. They were pieces of her and she wanted to throw them into the wind to take root and grow.

But when did she learn this or have the need, this natural habit of digging down within and grasping, searching for something?

In her mind's eyes, her beliefs were fairly reasonable. The Minister's private army of Heliopaths for instance…it simply must be true for her father had gone to the Ministry once, when he was an Auror and saw the elusive creatures himself. But…

Where had the gaps in her memories taken root? How had she been before? How had she seen before her mother died? As age sets in, it seemed the end was always at the beginning. She had always been Luna.

Her awareness was with the stories, contained within their effects. Someone once said it was because of her father's stories that her penchants arose, but that was a bare, uninformed assumption. Assumptions themselves always fell over time when they had no reason or rhyme.

She had heard the stories before they were told. She knew the tales before they were unfolded with delicate precision. It was unthinkably natural to her. Because there was never anything said without a bit of truth held inside. Words were like an ornate vessel. Often one looked at the design rather than question what was contained inside the vessel. The world was full of designs, as was magic. It was easy to get lost.

She had begged for the re-telling many times, just before she drifted off into slumber.

"What did they look like, Daddy?" she would whisper, her notable eyes wider than usual.

Her father stood up from his place by her bed. She watched as he raised his long arms high above his head, creating a shadow that loomed on the quaint and warm wooden beams with cinnamon-like swirls that supported the roof above her head.

"They were gigantic, massive. Taller than me, with flames burning everywhere. Looked like I had walked right into the belly of a dragon. There were thousands of them!"

His smile crinkled down at her through tired eyes.

"And you know why they're down there, in the heart of the Ministry?"

He bent lower, beard brushing her head.

"Why?" she asked.

"To protect us of course! It's the army against darkness, my Lunette."

He swept her in his arms, seeing she was far from sleepy, and asked her what other stories she would like to hear. He had any type of tale stored away in the back of his mind waiting to be untied and looked forward to the telling as much as his daughter awaited the rendition.

It had been a year since his wife had passed away.

Artemus Lovegood had come home to a quiet house that day and perplexed by the silence, journeyed down into the depths of his wife's study. Potions and brews were spilled across the table that had seemed half destroyed and a continuous drip of fluid made a larger hole through the stone floor. Cream papers hovered in every corner, burned and smeared, and in the center of the room, in such a way it seemed to be the center of everything at the time…at the very center of the disorder that still was in motion was Luna kneeling calmly near her mother, holding a spiritless hand.

It was an image he could not wash away from his mind. Silver eyes peering under waxy blonde bangs waiting patiently… For what he never knew.

He didn't think it was him, now that he looked back on it. Her gaze held him where it seemed like an eternity they stared at each other, trapped in the moment. Then his daughter seemed to have found what she was looking for.

"She wanted to say goodbye, Daddy, we did wait. But she left before you came home," Luna told him, calmly.

He fell into grief. Perhaps a better way to say it was that he plummeted into grief without being conscious of it.

For months, he could only sit in a chair, lost within his own reliving of his life, and wonder what might have been if he had come home sooner. The war was over and had been over for years yet he still continued…

A little hand snuck though his own and he looked to find his child by his side.

"She broke the equation, Daddy."

The girl's eyes were serious and contained with understanding far beyond her age.

"With her wit, she found her treasure. She had to find it or else there never was the question without the answer. She told me that our lives are acts, not ideas. She lived."

The words scared him more than any dark wizard could, more than a thousand days like that homecoming, in a march of repetition. She had an understanding that no child should have and more importantly, could have. And the worst to him was the crystalline presence in her eyes. Her eyes were not cold by any means. It was a clear-cut, tangible presence of reflections he could even begin to comprehend.

From then on, he covered for his absence. He was repaying for his wrongs as well as his rights, it seemed. He had given so much to others yet when it counted, he had missed what he had…his Lunette was the only part of his wife he had left.

He feared so strongly that her childhood would slip away, dissolved by the potions that could burn through solid stone. In his dreams, well, his dreams were fear, due to reasons that he couldn't admit to anyone and unfortunately even to himself.

Much to the distress of the Ministry, he resigned as an Auror.

"There is still a lot of darkness out there, Lovegood. Lift up some of these rocks and you'll be surprised what slithers out."

He looked away from Moody's disconcerting gaze as he pushed his remaining books into the bag with finality.

"I know what pain you're going through but think…you have to send your little girl out into a world that needs to be fixed," the older man growled out, arms crossed with the air of judgment.

Artemus grew angry despite knowing the truth of the words. He was not weak for giving up. Moody didn't understand, couldn't understand! Let Alastor go save the world. And under the older man's unwavering sight, Artemus left. He would choose his confessions for himself, not for his colleagues or friends.

Every night he found himself telling her stories, stories that he needed as much as she did. Sometimes he even believed them.

"You've seen a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!" she asked, eyes alight.

"A glimpse," he replied lightly.

"You should write down what it looks like," his daughter muttered sagely. "So everyone can know about them." She paused. "Will I ever see one?"

"If you believe in them, you will. Remember, Lunette, you can only see if you look."

He tapped her nose playfully. She always remembered.

And look she did.

* * *

She scanned her copy of the Daily Prophet carefully, knees folded up onto the seat. Her father had loaned her it for something to read on the train. She would rather read his rough draft of his paper. They had talked about it eagerly after she had received her letter to Hogwarts. He was pushing to get it published, and her heart fluttered at the thought that the Wizarding World would have more truths to search after.

A small knock drug her from her thoughts.

"Excuse me, can I sit in here? Everywhere else is full, and my brothers don't-I can't find them anywhere."

"I think you'd like that seat." Luna motioned at the one opposite from her. "It doesn't look like it has been sat on that often."

She had chosen the compartment near the very back of the train because the barren compartment seemed in obvious need of use.

The small red-haired smiled nervously and sat down very quickly, pulling a small, black book out of her bag. She seemed to sigh in relief and held it close, then noticed Luna watching her. She fidgeted under the unblinking gaze.

"Oh, well, I almost left my diary at home and that would have been horrible of me. My mother was rushing around so, and Fred charmed all my socks to wriggle away from me and I couldn't catch them. Erm, they were very quick and burrowed behind the furniture where I couldn't possibly reach them. By the time I got them all, mum was yelling, and I was in the car when I remembered I had left it behind!"

Luna nodded, picturing quite clearly that formable dexterity of socks, especially the right sock.

"I imagine your diary would have been lonely without your thoughts all year," she said musingly.

Her henna-wild eyes widened, suddenly alert. "W-What do you mean lonely?"

"Isn't that what it's made for?" Luna asked.

Her friend stared and her nose scrunched up in confusion. Luna noticed she had a great deal of freckles that found a place on the bridge of her nose.

"Ideas are part of you, and so a diary is a part of you. It's no good going around in pieces," Luna explained.

"Oh. Right, I suppose," her companion chirped happily, crossing her arms over a small book and hugging it close.

"I'm Ginny, by the way, Ginny Weasley. All this is so exciting, isn't it? I've been waiting to go to Hogwarts all my life, after my brothers. My whole family was in Gryffindor. I'm so nervous about where I'm going to be placed. I've thought it through and someone told me that no other house would really fit me. I hope he's right because my mum would have kittens if I'm with the Slytherins. They're a horrible lot and I would die if I was put in that house. Ron wouldn't tell me how they go about choosing our houses. Fred and George were whispering about a troll, but they hushed up when I tried to listen. Ugly prats…and I don't mean trolls. I've asked everyone, but no one wants to ruin the surprise for me."

She sighed heavily and after looking back at Luna, seemed to remember something.

"You must think I'm loony going on like that, and I haven't even asked your name."

Luna smiled lightly.

"I'm Luna Lovegood. If you are worried, chase it away with other thoughts. Worries hate that because they like their space and there isn't enough room."

Ginny laughed, much to Luna's surprise.

"You know, that makes me feel loads better. But, seriously, what house do you want to be in?

"Wanting and being are two different things but my mother was a Ravenclaw. I would like to be in her house."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters? I have plenty of brothers, no sisters. I'm the only girl in my family."

"I'm an only child," Luna answered. "And, like you, the only girl."

Ginny raised her eyebrows again, smiling, and searched valiantly for another topic of interest.

"I like your necklace. What are those...Wizarding bottle caps?"

"And Muggle ones too. I made it myself. They've been everywhere, you know. Maybe all around the world, on all sorts of bottles, pockets anywhere really. Perhaps they were right by each other, on the same shelf at the same time. Think about how many people held them. And now I am. Do you want to hold them?"

"Er, no thank you. They are very nice bottle caps though…"

After a moment of silence, Luna noticed that Ginny's hands kept moving as if to open the book in her lap but then stop, almost in a self-scolding manner.

"If you want to write down your thoughts, go ahead. I don't mind."

Ginny looked relieved and after muttering a quick 'Thanks', she took to writing furiously in the small book. It was hard to determine if she ever raised the quill from the paper. The quill made a very dry, crinkling sound, rough around the edges. Luna returned to her carefully folded paper.

It was silent the rest of the way save for the scratching noise. She was thankful for the silence because it was hard to find the pattern in the newspaper without concentration as it was hard to read each word backwards and forwards. Upside down was the most difficult but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Secret messages were secret for a reason after all.

"You do know the Prophet is upside down…don't you?"

Luna looked up again to see her friend had paused in her writing and was studying her with a new look on her face that Luna couldn't decipher. Before she could explain, the train pulled to a slow stop and someone was bellowing for the first years. Ginny gave her one last departing glance before gathering her things and hurrying out, her bag banging against the door frame notably.

Luna didn't mind. She just didn't prefer hurrying. She might miss something along the way.

It was much better to take your time and notice the fabric of the different cloaks and how longs strings hung down further than others. That the glass was smudged by a traveler who had pressed his face against the panes, and it left a rainbow pattern while the window shook from the window as if someone was trying to get in, maybe a chameleon creature. The grass here was taller and greener and slightly curlier, with the shadows of birds darting though and the tracks were scrapped with red paint. She liked the feeling of the wind caressing her earrings against her face. She would have to get a bigger pair of earrings some day, maybe a pair that jangled. The stones were smaller along the path and nestled shyly into the dirt. She made sure not to step on too many so they could still see the light and be seen by others who walked this way.

She was shorter than most of her peers, she noticed, while peering around curiously. They were all quite tall, and she could measure them by more than just a few pairs of boots, if she were to place her father's boots by each of them specifically. It was great game, trying to find the source of the summoning voice while in the thicket of such a gamely gang. Sometimes the voices would interweave and she would have to pry them apart.

As she chose the most mute of the boats (for the moment of the crossing) she wondered if they would teach them a charm to walk on water. She had always wanted to walk on water but then again walking on air would be better and one could go more places and in more directions, she was sure. Her fingers were brushing the water in a languid motion and something brushed her fingertips. She didn't look at what it was. She imagined.

Luna was certain the castle had eyes. There was a light deep inside. It was a welcoming shadow of the past. The dusk was slinking through the cracks, like a prowling, grappling thing of old, like an old, wrinkled face. The light her mother had had was in the eyes. She had come home.

The boat itself was nervous, it seemed, so she stood on the prow, positioned and pretending about piercing through barriers. Her boat mates were not pleased. She noticed a tug around her neck.

The barrier, she thought alarmed. But one blonde, chaffy boy fisted his hands in her cloak.

"Oh, you're a great help," she said, cheerfully.

...Sometimes she just didn't understand people. Life is so full. Don't they have ideas, wonderful ideas that zing and sizzle and spark, and shouldn't they want to enjoy that they can think? She wished they would show more expression on their faces. They reminded her of cocooned caterpillars that never came out.

"My, my…" the hat whispered above her. "What a mind you have."

She listened closely, wondering how many heads this hat had sat on. She tried to picture each and everyone. She wished she could see their lives…especially Gryffindor. Didn't he fight dragons and ride Griffins? The thought of the tawny hair in her fingers as she flew through the air made her made her hands itch.

Though, to be fair, she wouldn't mind seeing Fen with those fenny fellows.

'Our greatest strengths are our greatest weakness," the hat whispered. "Your mind is …so rare. I haven't seen one quite like yours before…" the old voice shied away. She waited.

"You are loyal and very brave. Though…I don't think you've known much fear, have you? But you are a thinker. Don't get too interwoven in your thoughts, my dear, as strong as they are."

"Ravenclaw!"

The hat shouted while Luna wondered at the statement. As the hat was lifted off her eyes, she saw the reserved Ravenclaws politely clapping. It wasn't what the Gryffindors did at all. They howled and laughed and there was that one boy who kept trying to enchant the other's Prefect badge. She caught sight of an apparently bewitched fork that was doing cartwheels.

She realized she hadn't gotten up. The older, green robe-adorned woman with sharp features looked down at her with her lips pursed. Luna admired the color especially the splash of gold on the tips of the robes. She wondered what the symbols meant near the edges, wishing she could trace them and look them up later.

She wandered slowly over to her table. She felt eyes watching her. The Slytherins snickered. She wondered if they had caught sight of the fork as well and smiled. The plates were quite nice here, though at home she had painted as many in swirls. That is why she liked radishes; they had lots of swirls if you looked.

A brown headed girl was looking over at her bemusedly.

"Nervous?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you nervous or something? You shouldn't be. We don't bite."

Luna blinked. Who said anything about biting? How strange.

"I'm Marietta Edgecombe. Luna, isn't it?"

"Yes, that is what my parents called me."

Marietta lessened her smile. Unknown to Luna, the girl had interpreted her reply as sarcastic. To Luna, that was the answer, nothing less and certainly nothing more.

The boy across from her started to laugh behind his hand. Luna assumed he suddenly had a thought.

Next to Marietta was a beautiful girl with raven black hair. Luna was about to comment on the appropriate nature of her hair for this house. The light caught it like a rainbow again; glinting slightly were long earrings, plain silver. Yes, Luna wanted bigger earrings than that.

"Um, what are you staring at?"

"You," Luna said honestly. The girl gave her a narrow look. "Well, your hair, actually. It's very pretty in the light."

"Right," Marietta said, amused, and relaying a signal of annoyance down the table.

Such was the relationship with her house mates.

Then came the words. The bloody words on the wall, words so powerful that everyone changed…

But fear only changes so much.

One night she came back late from the library to find her trunk missing.

She stood in the middle of the dorm room in quiet wonder. All her books were in there…as well as her deciphered Prophets. Could it be that the Ministry caught on to her investigation?

By the second month, she had found bits and pieces of a code.

'He. In Hogwarts. Fool daughter. Wait…'

Nothing direct but she was getting there. One had to count, and usually three letters made one letter. This pattern swayed through the articles on page six like a particularly elusive S.

Somehow she doubted anyone had come in the middle of the night to sweep away her findings. Then the House Elves wouldn't have moved it to be cleaned more. She bent down to see if it had been knocked under her bed by accident. She had been in a hurry and had moved it. She definitely recalled that.

It made her feel terrible. She didn't like misplacing things and some of her mother's pictures were in her album. Once she turned in her library books before she realized it and noticed her hands weren't carrying any books at all. That only happened when her thoughts were extremely busy, for instance, her thoughts were on the number of steps at Hogwarts and the ratio of how many steps on would take and see a ghost as a result or the turn of a stairway. She had made a chart which was also in said invisible trunk. Hmmm…

Luna tried to place her hand on where the trunk should have stood.

A slight snickering while she was on her hands and knees made her look up and see the curtains of her dorm mate, Eliza Wordsworth, snap shut. The noise made similar ones arise and soon it sounded like a monsoon.

She didn't understand the 'why' or the 'what for'. Moreover, she didn't understand what she should do or how she should respond. So she laughed.

It drowned all the petty snickers and curtains drifted open with startled faces. By now, though, she truly found it humorous. Novel joke, trunks disappearing, though she would have hoped for something more imaginative…

That was what amused her so…the lack of imagination. No jumping books, no rewriting texts, no transmuting quills, or a trunk that eats you! Just a lost trunk!

She fell to the floor with laughter. Now the curtains were fully open.

"She's gone mad. Off her rocker!"

"What do we do?"

"How would I know?"

"She could suffocate. Go get somebody, Eliza!"

"What's wrong with her?"

She calmed down and stood up and the room was graced with silence. Luna brushed off her robes, gathered her bag, and left without a word. A shocked pair of girls ventured to close the door, slowly, as if they were about to be attacked.

"She really is a loony…" Eliza muttered, stunned, into the shadows from the safety of her bed.

* * *

_Dear Lunette._

_How are you? I've been well, and the Publication will be coming through _

_soon. Don't have a name for it yet. I was leaving that part to you. How is Ravenclaw? Hope you have made friends. I was thinking about having a lunch with you to read over it and maybe you can ask a few of your friends to come along. It would be nice to get more opinions on it._

_With love,_

_Dad_

Penelope Clearwater tapped her on the shoulder as she read her letter by the fire.

Looking up questioningly, Luna smiled.

"Yes, can I help you?"

Penelope frowned and sat across from her.

"I've heard some things from your dorm mates that rather concern me. I won't name the girl but she told me your trunk was taken. Why didn't you come to me about this?"

Luna blinked. It hadn't occurred to her to go to a Prefect. Her dorm mates wouldn't have taken the trunk if she was to tell and she didn't like telling on silly people for silly things.

"Oh, I don't think they meant any harm. It came back. Most of my things do."

Penelope paused for a moment, studying the first year.

"Luna, you might try to be…more…" Penelope struggled for a word. Luna watched her hands wave about her face as she searched.

"Sub..restrained with your dorm mates. I think if you tried…to talk about their interests."

Penelope seized the words with fervor.

"You know you could try talking about classes, or, or music. Maybe clothing, I know Wordsworth likes that…"

"Oh…yes, she does." Luna said, wishing she could say more.

She didn't quite know what Penelope was on about. She was getting along, smiling and everything. And clothes were just so boring but she did pretend to like them.

"I know what you're thinking. Listen, I am a Muggle-born and I didn't have the foggiest idea what my friends were talking about my first year. But I made an effort to learn about their interests. It's just best to get along, Luna."

Luna remained silent. She was interested in her dorm mates. Honestly, she was. She tried talking to them, about earrings and classes. Why wasn't Penelope talking to them about being interested in her ideas?

Luna nodded.

Penelope rose up with a smile.

"I'm glad we had this talk, Luna. I hope your year goes better."

* * *

It was past curfew when Luna looked up from her book. She was in a corner in the library, reading about the life story of Uric the Oddball and imagining his adventures, especially about the wild hunt. She pictured herself in her mind as him and was quite lost. She didn't realize the time had passed into a foreboding number.

Eleven-thirty, thirty minutes from the time the horns would blow and the hounds would be released to the hunt in a wild euphoria of dance, spears, and howls.

Ring the bells, the hunter is coming.

But Luna should be in bed, safe behind the suit of armor. Unless she was to be the hunted.

She danced away quickly, pretending to be fleeing as well as any quarry should. She didn't desire to run into any Prefects and most definitely not Penelope for reasons she didn't quite know. With her swiftness, she avoided the prowlers and things that lurked from the shadows, arriving at the suit at thirteen seconds till twelve.

"The basic use of Dragon Blood is as follows: besides being just a transmutation point, the proper anesthetics of the precise concentration can lead to prolonged life. It can be a summoning charm for ghosts and a looking glass if applied correctly with elder and reed. It can react with any form of poison, breaking down the basic structure of the composition especially with Runespoor venom. With lizard tongue, the blood becomes diluted and is applied for healing exercises, particularly with the charmed connection of Merrick's theorem. Both users can enter upon an unbreakable life blood where even their hearts are in sequence. For the Dark Arts, necromancy cannot be stabilized without it. During the reign of Grindelwald, the Ridgeback breed was almost wiped out due to prolonged use. Diluted dragon's blood can increase Legilimency, if dripped into the eye in precise concentration. Also for protection uses, for reference, there is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where every stone was melded with dragon's blood to ensure safety and endurance. In reference to immortality, check Hogwarts: A History, page. 186, line 60 for Nicholas Flamel."

She waited for the suit to spring aside. It did not. Luna's brow furrowed. The password, she was sure she had memorized it by heart. Had she missed a word? Then the monsoon came again.

"Tell you what, Loony…you say something that makes sense and we'll gladly let you in."

Luna was unaware that her house mates had come to the conclusion that she was having a jest at them all. She was very unaware and quite confused by what Wordsworth meant. Penelope Clearwater had changed the password that very morning and had told the Ravenclaws to inform anyone missing of the changes.

"Um, you like clothes…"

A burst of laughter followed and Luna felt she had been quite badly advised by Penelope. It was now nine seconds to twelve.

"Without sense, you can make no change…"

More laughter…

Time was running her down. It occurred to her that what they were looking for was a plea. It was clear and struck her hard. She couldn't and she wouldn't.

At midnight, the girls opened the entry to find that Loony Lovegood was gone.

Luna walked quickly back to the library, to her nook where she could wait till the light of morning eases all places for the monster of Slytherin to lurk. She began to think about what was out in the Forbidden Forest. She had stumbled upon some tracks during her last visit.

Could it be a new undiscovered creature?

It was patterned and bent and never left the ground. It didn't even seem to have feet. Perfectly parallel, never crossing, and bent many a bush. She tried to follow the tracks but suddenly they disappeared right into thin air. What she really wanted was a Lunascope, so that maybe with the proper illumination, she could see the creature.

It must be able to fly.

She was busy deciding what to call it. Rolling-Land Hippocampus had a ring to it!

She ran into someone rounding the corner. She dropped her book and fell backwards. It took a while to move her hair from her face. There in front of her was her friend from the train.

"Ginny?"

Please review so I know how I'm doing. I made a reference to Uric the Oddball and the Wildhunt by Ariana Deralte. It's a wonderful story, so check it out if you have not. I have a certain approach to this story planned. Also Ginny's part in this bit is more of an introduction. Luna will meet Tom directly in further chapters.


	2. Angles

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. J.K. Rowling does.

Author's note: Thanks again to Mistress Siana for her advice on this chapter.

Angles

For every cause, there is an effect.

Most wizards understood this law very well and adhered to it in all manner of magical mastery. But logic was not part of this law (unlike its Muggle counterpart) or their world, thus making the isolation of one Luna Lovegood quite the paradox.

Eliza Wordsworth was part of this paradox, rather the instigator that would set off a series of events with unforeseen consequences for a number of notable wizards. Including the Boy-Who-Lived. Especially the Boy-Who-Lived…

No matter how clever a Ravenclaw may be, they are not seers.

Eliza herself was a witch of extraordinary background, from a family known for their ruler straight adherence to rationality. Her mother was a researcher for the Department of Mysteries and a member of Investigators of Magical Menace and her father was a top-ranked Ministry official. Sense was of the utmost sensibility for these pure-bloods.

The problem for Eliza was Luna Lovegood was the most nonsensical of persons, who also happened to be a nasty, little showboat. An instinctive, natural enmity for the girl uncurled in the pit of her stomach just looking at the jangling bottle caps or her wispiest of smiles. If Eliza believed in such things, she would have considered the feeling to be an accumulation of past lives…in which Luna was her fated opposite and unwitting foe, with each rebirth, daring to become more…loony.

Eliza had watched the disoriented first year wander to the table after the Sorting Hat sealed her fate as a Ravenclaw, seemingly taking her time to get to a seat and drawing all the attention to her at the expense of her house mates. She was quite put off at the relay of snickers and rolled her eyes at her child-hood friend, Olivia Malvern.

Of course, she had put out the effort to be cordial at first. The first impression that had buried itself inside of her could always be covered up. To her credit, she had been nervous too, before her Sorting. She too had to endure the clicking of an invisible tongue in her thoughts, in her head. _Indeed_, it said, _you shall live up to your expectations. _

This puzzling statement bothered her. Maybe the odd girl, who seemed to be of wild sort, had had an unsettling experience as well. As she had gazed down the table, feeling a thickening presence of a buffered disorder, Eliza had made a clear case for her house mate.

Surely, she had thought, this behavior is a case of nerves. I'll reserve my judgment until we exchange words.

A good rule of thumb. That had promptly failed. In this rare instance, instinct had prevailed over reason.

After the feast had ended, Eliza was introduced to her new place of residency all with the other first years. Strangely, the entire time she had been aware of Lovegood's presence. The girl, who had loitering in the back of the group, had mixed in the wrong line when the Ravenclaws had crossed paths with the Hufflepuffs, and had stopped to chat with portraits. Her voice sounded off to Eliza, up and down, or upside down. No distinct order and something underneath the voice that twisted, snapped, and popped. It was as if some ghost of a girl had decided to join them in their academic pursuits. Ghosts didn't have reason; there would be no need.

The girl, who had seemed to be attempting to take in the whole of the castle through her eyes, eyes that were never quite right. Eliza had felt distinctly the feeling of being observed and studied, like she wasn't on the same level as Lovegood. Like they all were interesting, funny creatures.

She had felt all this before they had even reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Still, her initial approach was to be tested and tried.

Eliza and Olivia had found their room to be to their liking. A subtle shade of blue, not too loud. The room seemed fairly spaced, the right amount of the length between the beds. Eliza had been concerned. From the look of the other rooms in the castle so far, it could be safely assumed that most were mazes within themselves.

She had been in a decent mood enough to smile at Lovegood who entered the room last. Another first year had taken the bed next to her, thank goodness, so Luna had been left taking the one nearest the window.

Yes, she had felt better. Until she heard the humming. Well, it hadn't been humming. Humming implied a tune soft and with a melody.

The girl's motions were so haphazard, hands wandering here and there while suddenly pulled back as Luna changed her mind on the disorganization of her space. It was like watching a badly reenacted play, where everyone knew the lines except for the actress. In contrast to the restrained mannerisms of the others (who folded, pressed, and fluffed), Luna was a raging hippogriff. Moreover, there were sound effects.

'I think I will place you here…no, no, you wouldn't be in the light, how about in the window, oh, I had it in my hands, where did it get off to…"

And to Eliza's dismay, the rambling continued, muttered in extreme concentration.

"Oh, hello…" Luna whispered, sitting cross-legged among her scattered items, with a dreamy smile.

In shock, Eliza looked down at the mess in the center of their room.

A pile of rocks, mismatched socks that moved, onions, radishes, turnips, bent forks, clocks of all sizes with no numbers, brushes with only a few remaining prongs, books with pages half torn out, crumpled newspapers rolling about, feathers, brass knobs, hair in bottles (of what sort she could not tell), keys, and hats both tall, wide, and furry (that one moved), a live newt. Folded, preserved wrappers, all-seeing spectacles (which her father had except his pair actually had lenses), and circular disks…

"What are those things?" Melissa Fernhart asked, pointing at the disks.

"They're Muggle objects. My dad found out that Muggles use them to see rainbows, as they can not conjure up a storm to make a rainbow."

…dodgy-looking pair of teeth, dancing quills that clicked annoyingly upon the stones, broken bottles, a tea cozy, a pile of bottle caps, empty bird cage…the only normal things were her clothes and a photograph alongside her books. Examining the moving picture closely, Eliza assumed that was Luna's mother and couldn't resist the thought 'Looks like she didn't inherit her mother's features or her sanity…' For she assumed the woman was sane as her eyes didn't flicker as much as her daughter's and her smile was in moderation.

She felt a bit bad about that bubbling thought later but honestly, she was annoyed with the mess that seemed to creep into every corner of the room within minutes.

Something in her seemed to snap as it nestled itself smugly into the very back of her folded clothing she had yet to put up.

"Who do you think you are?" Eliza growled. "Bringing this rubbish into our dorm? Are you trying to be funny?"

Luna tilted her head, puzzled.

"I can tell you right now that I, for one, am not amused. And neither is anyone else. I know your type."

Eliza looked at the stunned face of soft spoken Fernhart and glared. Luna still looked perfectly puzzled and opened her mouth slowly, as if speaking to someone of low intellect.

"These are my things. And a dorm is a place for things. And…I've never really thought about who I am. I just assumed I was me."

"Well, you disgraced Ravenclaw today, for your fifteen seconds of fame, and apparently, plan to continue onward with your…sordid nonsense. I don't care about this dorm really, if you want to live likethis, you can do so. But, outside this dorm, I warn you …you'd better remember house pride and have some dignity."

A distinct look of hurt flashed in the girl's eyes but disappeared so quickly that Eliza wondered if her words had gotten through at all.

Luna continued to gather her things, replacing them and moving them about, humming another tune.

"What, can't think of anything outlandish to say, Lovegood?"

Luna had stopped, blinking up at her.

"Your last name is Wordsworth," she had said mournfully.

"What of it?"

The blonde shook her head slowly, sighing as if let down by some unnamable rule. That was when Eliza had realized…

No, nothing was realized at all. No amount of epiphanies could make Eliza understand why she, a normally kind girl, react so unlike herself, as if someone had snuck in through the back door of her head and used the Imperius curse. Why did she gain a discordant euphoria and desperation around her class mate? Subconsciously, nestled in the half of herself she ignored, was where the answer was.

Eliza Wordsworth was afraid of Luna Lovegood.

Afraid in the most basic sense…the most human sense anyway. Lovegood was unbound, seemingly beyond her subdued peers in thought or behavior, and then there was the lack of...there was innocence that some deep part of her wanted to crush. She began to see those erratic eyes everywhere, shifting from one focus to another, sometimes not there and sometimes…too aware…

She wanted to shake the girl hard, make her wake up. Make her look like the rest of them. What did Lovegood know? Did the twit dare think herself better than the rest of them, so much so that she didn't deign to act within normalcy? There was a scent of disaster on the wind with this girl. Wake up, so she wouldn't have to see a living cocoon waiting to break open.

Such thoughts had made a home in her head, making her first night before classes a battle for futile sleep. She pushed herself further down into her bed sheets, watching the curtains beside her suspiciously between the folds and struggling for rest.

Behind her shut eyes, lights danced and when her eyes shot back open again, a glowing, bouncing dart of light clanked and cluttered on the stone and threw sputtering sparks everywhere, one right on her clenched hand.

The brunette gasped in alarm, waving her hand as if it had been burned and fear making her head spin. The enchanted marble rolled its course charted by the cracks, and ended up under her bed. A second later, the curtains opened and a rumpled dirty blonde head, with her wand tucked behind her ear, poked out.

"Oh, Merlin, did you see where my marble went? They're my daddy's and he gave them to me before I left. I don't want to lose it."

"Sorry…I was asleep, like every sane person at this ungodly hour. I have no idea about the state…of your marbles, though I can hazard a guess," Eliza hissed and hurriedly shut the curtains. Late into the early morning, she heard the girl moving around the dorm in search of the missing marble but didn't come near her space.

The beautiful, mermaid-scale crafted stone lay gathering dust long after the War until an unsuspecting first year came across the lost treasure.

But, needless to say, Eliza's self-justified jab tore her nature into a chasm. That's when she decided to take action. It was a sense of reason that motivated her. Make Lovegood see reason.

* * *

Eliza was in quite a turmoil when she threw open the entry to find a solid, uncaring stone wall and no Loonies, with confused (knowing) eyes, in sight. The cool space seemed to laugh at her.

Melissa peeked over her shoulder, gasping. Terry Boot pushed his way past her. Eliza didn't know why he had stayed around after several not-so-subtle hints had been made for him to do quite the opposite.

"What are you lot up to?"

And after not getting an answer, he had remained the whole time, pretending to be engrossed in a book. Until Loony tried to get in. He had tapped her shoulder in an annoying fashion, whispering "Do you think this is a good idea?".

Now, she realized, this hadn't been a good idea

"Bloody hell. Did you hear a struggle?" Terry turned in the corridor, standing judiciously as if he was ready to dole out blame.

"We've killed her…" Melissa broke out, grasping her hands in a nervous motion. "We left her out there, a-an-and the Heir took her. T-They'll expel us! Break our wands! My father-what will he say!"

She was cut off as Eliza shoved her. Boot sputtered indignantly at the act.

"What is wrong with y-?"

Eliza aimed her wand at Boot.

"Locomotor Mortis," she said clearly. After seeing her curse was effective, she smirked. "Best come in, Boot. Don't despoil the halls."

She sneered but inside, she was screaming.

"What is this?" he hissed, jumping feebly back into the Common Room.

"That will teach you to mind your own business, won't it? And you'll be in for worse if you don't keep quiet."

She freed the curse. The tall second-year flushed in embarrassment and anger and stormed out the stairway, muttering.

Eliza quickly Silencio-ed both of her companions.

"Now listen here, the both of you!" she choked out. "Think of your family, think of your future! There is no Heir, Fernhart. It was a ruse to mess with the perfect Potter and you know it, so don't be so naive! Loony wandered off to have a show while we tell on ourselves…when we did nothing wrong. She was out there already, by Circe, and a few extra minutes didn't kill her."

Fernhart whimpered slightly, her eyes suspiciously wet.

Olivia motioned impatiently at her throat and Eliza lifted the charm after delivering a scalding warning.

"I will not be a part of this ridiculous charade any longer. Sure… Some Slytherin was having a go at Potter. Let's go to bed before Boot comes down here again."

"If you speak about this later, to Flitwick, to anyone…you know my knowledge of hexes."

"I'm not in the mood, Eliza. I don't want this on my record any more than you do. And neither does Melissa. If you don't bring down the whole house with your shouting…"

Melissa muttered under her breath.

"Pardon?" Olivia eyed the hysterical girl with disdain.

"Th-there is a Heir. I know it. Dumbledore. I saw his face. He believes it and so do I."

"Dumbledore is just like Lovegood. Dramatics, that's all. I don't bet that many students are roaming the halls and pursing the Restricted Section now, are they? Makes his job easier," Olivia said, longing for her bed and stash of Chocolate Frogs underneath.

Yes, life was just right bloody dandy.

"I'm going upstairs," she proclaimed, feeling a headache settling in and turned her back on the two, with her head held high. Later she heard her dorm mates' bed rattle and Fernhart's sniffling which she blocked out with a muttered 'Tacitus'. Briefly, she wondered what the morning would bring and if she would be yanked out of bed by an Auror for questioning…she fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming about being trapped in a vault by the goblins that had revolted yet again.

Strangely enough, there was a Posnickel pinging off the walls madly, singing 'Beware the Hair, Beware the Hair,' to the offbeat tune of Warbeck's love ballads.

* * *

Luna gazed up through her parted curtain of hair at the small Gryffindor. She had made no move to get up as she was knocked back rather hard. She had never seen someone at this angle anyways. Sitting back on her hands, she smiled dreamily.

This view did something quite odd to people's eyes.

Like make them flash and glint, darken…like an eclipse. Her father had taken her to see an eclipse of the moon, of any light, and she wondered if the moon would get sick of hiding eventually. It must be shy, coming out only in steps, moving the veil only a bit at a time. How rare with eyes, though. Luna decided she should sit like this more often.

The Gryffindor moved, drawing out her wand slowly.

'Oh, she doesn't need to pick up my books for me. Daddy always said clean up your own mess.'

Luna began to pick up her aged copy of Uric the Oddball, Merrick's Theorem: In depth, Moon Magic, and Underwater Mysteries: Merspeak Made Easy. She really didn't want creased pages, sighing as the books were spread-eagled on the ground.

She eyed the shoes in front of her all the while. Flecks of red were on the soles she noted. Maybe Ginny painted. That reminded her.

"Oh, I suppose your mum didn't sprout kittens then," she replied to the shoes. She replayed the words in her mind, wondering if that was the correct phrase.

There was a pause above her.

"I certainly hope not," Ginny replied, dryly.

A different beat. She loved listening to people's voices, with their own little beats, pauses, and intakes. It was their pulse. In the train, Ginny's was clipped and bouncy, and it went quite well with the train, barreling down a tunnel. These pauses were long and tone carefully crafted and woven, dipped into mahogany shine, and was coming from somewhere in deep in tunnel, somewhere part of the tunnel.

Perhaps she had just been nervous on the train.

"I'm terribly sorry about running into you. I was in a hurry against time. You see, past midnight, the castle comes alive, and I at least want to be in the library."

"Oh my, I wasn't aware of that. Whatever shall we do?" Ginny asked, in a solemn tone.

"Nothing to worry about. Remember the tricky thing about worries. Everything just shifts around a bit, and you don't want to be shifted. The stones move, and everything inside the walls come out for the night. But the books don't move, otherwise the library would never been organized even if Madam Pince kept at it forever. So that's the safest place."

"Inside the walls? Where did you get an idea like that?"

Luna blinked. Where…she didn't quite know exactly where. It had occurred to her secret tunnels and the like, and Ginny's tone reminded her of tunnels, and then the Oddball and things moving the stones, like clockwork and magical clocks when it chimed midnight. Such a strange question… to ask where an idea came from…they just pop about really.

"From my mind," she answered lightly.

It seemed that Ginny hadn't given much thought to…thoughts. Besides the walls have ears as her father is often fond of saying. She didn't want them to think too badly of Ginny.

"Ah, I see…What are you doing outside your common room, especially with monsters lurking about?"

Something was definitely drifting under that tone, tons of driftwood and deflated Quaffles and poisonous Nightshade.

For once, Luna withheld the truth.

"I just really wanted to finish reading, and my friends didn't want to be kept up. And…the library's the best place."

Ginny tilted her head with a smirk as if sensing her slight revision of the events. Well, she did want to finish her book. It wasn't finished unless she had read it again and could be inside it for a spell in order to wrap her mind around it (as her father said often).

"Words are like amaranthine, impossible for a true blue monster to understand," she finished, her hands tightening around the Oddball and feeling strangely self-conscious, a foreign and decidedly unpleasant sensation.

She assumed that is what it was…with her heart thumping like a moth ready to burst from her mouth.

"So a monster will not be in the Hogwarts library."

This declaration seemed to delight the red-headed immensely, where she shook with ill-disguised laughter. Luna thought she was being very silly indeed.

"Ah, vide de sens poetry. How very Ravenclaw."

She didn't much care for that at all, her unease burning up inside her like a thousand candles. She didn't understand the words but knew what they meant. Feeling caught in a net she was determined to get free from, Luna made to go by the first year.

An arm shot out to stop her.

"A prefect is down that corridor. I just passed him. In fact, speak of the devil…"

Footsteps drew closer to the pair, a light indicating the progress of an illuminating hand of justice. She was momentarily distracted by the way the magicked light bounced off the windows and made the designs appear to be like a net, where the whole of Hogwarts was captive. Petrified, she shuddered as the cyan glimmer reached for her feet ready to snatch her away but a hand on her cloak pulled her back into the shadows.

"Confusio."

Luna saw her hands turn a stony grey and bloody woven design. They had blended into the hallway. It was the most marvelous sight! Or no sight at all, a dash of magic on them both, spinning around like a web! Spinning with her arms outstretched, she was this magic.

Luna repeated the spell once more in her head. Usually it helped her to speak it out loud or tap it out with her wand. She found she couldn't speak with the small hand covering her mouth.

Two alert prefects marched around the corner in equal stride, one with red-hair a remarkable shade not too terribly off from Ginny's. The other was the one person Luna sought to avoid: Penelope Clearwater.

"As I was saying, believing in this rubbish is fatal to morale. I know Harry Potter myself. He spent the summer with my family. He's very quiet and of course, polite, but still even after we tried to make him feel at home, he was the standoffish sort. A tad bit arrogant if you ask me, though my mother adores him…what I am getting at is we should calm down and not jump to conclusions. It might be a cry for attention. My younger brothers are the same way, and I can spot a prank a Quidditch field away. I thought better of you, Penelope, than how you're acting. Honestly."

Penelope was a dull red, her strides harsh and blunt. The discordant sounds made Luna wrinkle her nose.

"Well, it's not as much of a problem for someone like you as it is for someone like me, Percy. Did you not hear what that Malfoy brat was yelling? You can be so inconsiderate and boorish sometimes. I don't know why I put up with you," she said, as tightly as a string about to break.

"I can think of a few reasons," Percy crowed and draped his arm over the startled Muggleborn. In fact, Luna thought he looked exactly like a rooster with his hair sticking straight up and his steps that made him hop and bob. But such a display should always wait until morning. The night was too soft for roosters and their feathers would be thick blots everywhere. Apparently Penelope had a similar impression.

"You really assume that will…You are a sexist pig, Percy Weasley."

She huffed off with the rooster flapping after her.

"Quibbling, puerile half-wits," Ginny hissed behind her, in disgust. Luna's eyes widened considerably, if that was possible.

"Say that again," she pleaded, enthralled.

She was shoved away and Luna frowned. Never mind. She could say it herself and even better.

"Quibbling," she muttered, pronouncing it long then slow then sharp.

"Bling, QuiBbling…" she sang to herself. Yes, she felt it in her very being. It rang a chord down her spine. She danced it out on the floor, tapping her feet to the syllables.

Ginny Weasley looked faintly ill, glaring daggers at her and mouth starting to contort like a half moon. The knuckles that held the wand grew white as Cyprus Creepers.

Luna felt saddened at the reaction at her hued interpretation. It really was a nicely woven word

"Well, it left your lips," she whispered. "It can land on mine, you know. It might like mine better. I can't help that."

"You…Cr-!"

A war seemed to be raging in those brown eyes that looked more like a seal or a door, with something waiting to come out. Then quite suddenly the storm was over. Ginny seemed to relax, her shoulders un-tensing. In fact, her skin was almost translucent, brown freckles as dark as ink. Her breaths came fast as if she had been dancing herself for a much longer while.

"Too long…" she muttered. Luna tilted her head in question.

"Since I've had a decent sleep. My brothers have been locking me out of my common room, giving me a right time of it. You seem to be in the same predicament."

"But-I have no brothers. Nor sisters," Luna protested.

Ginny held up her hands, well one hand wearily. The other that still gripped her wand trembled violently, twitching as if wanting to break free off the arm it was bound to. Perhaps she had been practicing swish and flick. Luna's hands had been the same way after she finished her thirtieth attempt.

"I-that's not the-that's not the point. I will get you…in-your common room if you kindly tell me-where it is l-located."

The beats were switching back and forth now, like a vibrating Fizzing Whizbee. Luna decided that Ginny Weasley must be very, very tired. She put a hand out to pat her head, that's what her father used to do when she was ill. Ginny looked scandalized, jerking away as if burned. Well, each to his own.

Like Penelope said. Oh.

"I can't tell you where it is. That would be breaking the secret and my house mates' trust. My father said trust is only as good as what you put in it. It's like it has very fragile wings. You must be careful with it."

"What does your fa-father do, pray tell?"

"Oh, he's a journalist! He writes the truth. About the Ministry, about Crumpled-Horned Snorkack which is very elusive, so many wizards don't even believe them to exist but-."

"I think I have a ge-general idea. But your house mates…they've already, how did you so prodigiously put it…yes, b-broken a wing or two. Besides, I have no interest in breaking the illustrious mystery of the Ravenclaw common room."

Luna paused in thought. Ginny was right. They had not wanted to let her in. So should she want to be let back in? She honestly didn't care. Already, she had planned to slip in just for her books and necessary items. But Ginny seemed to want to help her reenter her house.

"All right," Luna said slowly. "I suppose it will do no harm."

She began leading the Gryffindor to the suit of armor, with her books in tow.

"They won't find out. How could they? I don't plan on telling them. Oh, I-I have a favor to ask."

"How can I help you?" Luna replied, sincerely. "Questions are meant to be asked, you know."

"Ah, good," Ginny said a little too brightly, though Luna thought her mood must be improving. "My brother, that red-haired…Prefect, would not like that my other brothers have been te-teasing me. But I don't want him h-hovering over me. You can understand why, I trust. So can we keep this whole inci-dent between us? A-as friends."

Luna smiled kindly. She knew something was amiss. She saw it as clear as day in the poorly lit hallows of Hogwarts. But she didn't know what exactly. Her father said a good journalist gathers his evidence first. The words 'As friends' fell down into the place where she stored her hope though. Luna decided to wait, carefully observing, while not losing a potential friend her own age that notably has a love of words as well. It occurred to her that the two Ginnys were merely a figment of her imagination. She'd heard of everyone having a twin in the world but it would be so confusing having two there, when Ginny had mentioned she was the only girl. Surely world twins (unlike birth twins) would be on the opposite side of globe, as a balance.

Ginny truly must have been nervous. Or…

She would wait.

Luna stopped in front of the armor which snapped at the two grumpily.

"How typical," Ginny muttered. "Do they never…"

Luna raised her eyebrows.

"Never…oil him? I've asked since he seems so creaky, but I never really got an answer," she finished, darkly.

Ginny raised her wand.

"Oh, how do you do magic in the corridors?" Luna gasped, curious. "That would be the most wondrous of things to know."

Ginny laughed again, amused.

"You know what, refresh my memory. You are Luna Lovegood, are you not? I have been out of sorts lately, so forgive me if I am mistaken."

"You are not. Mistaken, I mean. We met on the train, in the unused compartment next to the fortieth window, on the left, just by the door that was off its hinges and the seat with the rusted springs coming through..."

"Yes, yes, I remember now. Just checking, you see. This has been such an experience I fear my memory might become cluttered."

"I know! I've felt the very same way! You just have too many ideas and not enough time!" Luna exclaimed, waving her arms about in expression. Someone might get it, why she was always in such a rush, and the prospect excited her.

"Time has always been my greatest enemy."

Luna noticed the rhythm had settled back into her friend's voice. Beat, pause, beat, pause…the eyes remained locked. There seemed to be a riddle in her words, an unanswered, posed question. And Luna was drawn in against her will.

"Enemy…is a strong word for a force. I rather think of it as a great door. If you don't know the password, you might be stranded for an equally great while, in a maze where you see only what you haven't done."

Ginny's eyes widened a bit and something flickered. It might have been a winged key, for it fluttered away before she could snatch it.

"You are…not like them, are you? You are different. They won't understand, so they bar the way against you. How does that feel to you?"

Honestly, she had not given it much thought, which vaguely disappointed her. She would have to think more of it. She stared at the suit in consternation, humming lightly while considering the question.

"I suppose…I don't feel anything…about that. I don't believe it is worth feeling about. While they might not understand me, I don't understand them. That makes two wrongs, and there could be a third something, as things always come in threes, but that has not come, neither a wrong or a right... So I don't blame them, if that's what you are asking."

Ginny looked vaguely put off by her answer, eyes darkening to liquid shadows.

"Sometimes you can make them understand, you know…Luna. Even with your ingenious answer, I do wonder…"

Ginny cut herself off forcefully and gave an arched smile, reminding Luna a bit of the eclipse once more. How much would she see before the whole face was covered again?

"But I have left your question unanswered, haven't I? My wand…is a hand-me down and I'm not quite well matched with it. So my wand work is not powerful enough to be noticed by the sensitive detectors in the school. Even though it is effective, it is crude, artless if you will. My parents are saving up for a new one."

Luna nodded, well-aware of the necessity of wand compatibility. Hers was mostly at odds with itself. Mr. Ollivander commented on her wand being made from the wood of the apple tree and a core of dragon heartstring.

"Magic itself though…the very idea of the magic itself is more potent and enough for the bare minimum, if you can channel the energy through other mediums," Luna muttered.

"Precisely," Ginny said, seeming surprised. "Now let me show you the proper way to get around physical barriers. First I shall do it wrong. Then you tell me why, if you can. Abscido absconditum!"

The spell left the knight unaffected and it merely clanking in a mocking, empty laugh of triumph. There was a pause and Luna realized Ginny was waiting for her, eyebrows raised expectantly. Luna dove into the problem post haste.

The spell kind of bounced off in a fashion, and she pictured a form of Doxy fairy biting an unresponsive Hippogriff for some reason. Bouncing off in fact, because the tail would knock it away…so if it came from a different angle, it would succeed. Like the moon hitting the water becomes slightly larger and goes deeper, almost sinking in some parts of the world, unlike the Great Bear constellation which never sinks, because of the myth and then again, because it is not in the proper angle, right above, was it? With her mind full of bouncing Bluggers and ricocheting Billywigs, she answered.

"The angle. If you hit it at a different angle, with rotation to the wand, the magic will flow with the intensity, and the natural motions will cause the magic to penetrate deeper into the barrier thus making it separate from the main charm."

Ginny simply repeated the spell once more with her wand angle more pronounced and the suit sprung aside, quoting Bellwings Apparation-Displacement Theory. Ah, so that's what it was!

"Thank you," Luna said, sincerely. She hadn't been looking forward to spending the night in a stiff chair, even if it was around books and in her special nook by the window.

But she felt no victory, as it was not her knowledge that had opened the knight. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she hurried inside and turned to say her goodnight.

That Ginny Weasley seemed to be an idea was her sudden impression. An instrument that played a tune she had yet to pick up.

Yes, that is what she seemed to be, except for the hair and the eyes which had a mind of their own. Luna's eyes were the same at times though the rest of her seemed to support her eyes. At least she thought so. Luna wasn't afraid because she liked ideas, very much so. Yet it was out-of-place…Can a person think so much as to become an idea? Luna didn't think so.

"You know…are you okay?" Luna asked quickly, not wanting to offend. Her father had not looked alright yet he insisted he was, almost defensively. This question was the one Luna always circumvented besides from now.

"Never better," Ginny responded, inwardly laughing though Luna could hear it. "I'm just glad you are safe in the Tower of Babble once more. Now I can go back to my own humble common room, since you've helped me so much with that spell. I just couldn't quite crack it."

Luna was tempted to ask more about this Tower but felt distinctly off-kilter in terms of conversation. So she smiled instead and turned to go.

"About that maze…lovely description. But I think you forgot to mention the monster inside the labyrinth, since as every good story goes, there always is one."

Luna bit her lip, rethinking her words.

"Yes! But I don't think, in time, that there is much room for a big one in external, real space. It should come from the opposite way, which could only be inside."

By the time she looked up to see if the girl understood, the small Gryffindor had left. Luna shut the door calmly, wondering at what was causing her heart to be so. It was as if she had been fleeing the whole time instead of having a conversation. She fiddled with her necklace nervously, sitting by the dimmed fire.

It was pointless to venture upstairs to go to sleep. The shivers running down her spine were not going to allow for Morpheus to come tonight or today as it was.

She pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and began to compose a letter.

_Daddy, _

_I think I have stumbled across the briniest, springiest of words for your paper…_

* * *

Eliza could not figure out how Luna had gotten past the knight.

Every morning would find Lovegood curled up in front of the fire, when she would miss the new password by wandering off before breakfast.

Eliza thought this was an indication of something foul and suspicious. She watched Loony obsessively, waiting for the finally chips to fall.

The other Ravenclaws had fallen under the correct assumption that Lovegood was a bit off.

They did not speak to her, allowing her to sit at the end of their table without one ounce of attention. How could they give her attention when even the smallest bit was repaid by flights of fancy?

The most fitting punishment for an exhibitionist…yet Lovegood didn't seem to mind, reading, drumming her fingers upon the table, or merely staring off at a fascinating, invisible pink troll that they could not see.

Often Luna would spend the time transfiguring beetles to radishes, or turnips, and the like in the common room. There was the time she took placing socks on the knobs, to make them warmer for when people went to open the doors. Eliza was an unfortunate victim, along with Cho Chang, of incidentally placing her hand on the covered knobs while distracted…in other words, putting their hands on Loony's socks.

Luna worked tirelessly on using spells to manipulate glass and putting the pieces up to her eyes to see, as she put it, with another angle. Her unnaturally large eyes would peer through the circles, magnified to the size of a giant insect. Yes, for the whole week, all she babbled about was angles and eclipses (or was it ellipses?). She claimed to actually see through the walls and the magical currents and Nettlett's running about (which were very small). Eliza wondered how long they were expected to put up with this nonsense.

When was Clearwater going to take action?

"Can't you do something about her?" Edgecombe demanded of a haggard Penelope, after she had cornered her near the working desk.

The whole of first years through seventh years had retreated from the girl who had become to sing so loudly it hurt their ears. Eliza had told her to shut it, only for the singing to be replaced by tapping.

Penelope huffed up, closing her book and muttering about exams. They watched with baited breaths.

"Luna," Penelope began gently. "Dear, some of us are trying to study. It might be best if you took yourself outside. The weather is very nice today."

"Oh." Luna gazed at the rest of her house mates in surprise, as if just realizing they were in the room with her. Eliza was satisfied to see a look of unease pass upon her face. "The weather is very nice…today. Like it was yesterday. I shall go and make sure it didn't change."

Luna gathered her books and left.

"She is such a freak," Chambers declared to Chang. As if anyone doubted that. Chang pretended not to hear the remark, looking uncomfortable.

Eliza felt the swells of victory ahead. So when the weekend started and no sign of Lovegood at the table during dining hours, in the common room, or best of all, in the dorm...

Eliza saw that, to her immense pleasure, the Hufflepuffs were quite effective allies, though the Slytherins were more caustic and damaging. The Slytherins had perfected the art of mental isolation and torment and that was the method employed by the first years. But, strangely enough, the Hufflepuffs were better.

"Excuse me, do you not hear the words that are coming out of my mouth? Do you understand? Think…" Elizabeth Libbet hissed at Luna during Charms when Flitwick had assigned the poor soul to help Lovegood get Swish and Flick right. After half the class being wasted on trying to be helpful, Libbet seemed to have entered upon the annoying existence of Nettlets and Posnickels.

Luna continued overdoing the motion, blushing slightly and looking ridiculously confused, and Eliza was in heaven.

There, there, clear evidence, she reasoned. Clear evidence of Lovegood's mental capacity.

Luna seemed near tears at the end of that lesson for as a Ravenclaw, intelligence was the most valued.

The one thing that would affect Lovegood…Eliza stored it away for further use.

On her way out of the classroom, she made sure to whisper about Flitwick looking so disappointed for some reason. Luna kept her eyes down and repeatedly organized her notes (more drawings of her imaginary creatures) until Flitwick told her see him after class.

The Gryffindors were too concerned with themselves, as were the Slytherins to take notice of the oddball, except laugh and sneer. Eliza wondered how the girl knew the Quidditch match was even scheduled, for no one from any house would have told her.

Yet on the day of the Gryffindor and Slytherin match, Eliza saw those enormous turnip earrings and groaned.

* * *

Her first real Quidditch match had been one full of broken wings.

It seemed none of the seats wanted to be sat on. They would recoil back when she would near them. They must be very shy now, after being sat on, occasionally in bad weather, for so long. She might be wearing too bright of colors, though looking down all she had was bronze and blue.

Or her house mates were…

Luna sat herself on the top of the stairs that gave a much better view when the players appeared in between the sea of heads like darting paper moths or overly large birds of the tropical sort. She watched for a few moments, letting people walk around her on her perch. She learned to discern between them by three ways: whether they wore tennis shoes or boots, whether unlaced or triple-knotted, and whether they stepped on her mother's old cloak or not.

She considered the way the whole pitch seemed like a wild banshee gone mad, with waves of shouts and curses floating above her. She timed how long the shouts from the opposite side of the pitch reached her. She was a boat lost at sea, only the flying type and did hope the birds got out of the way she would hate to hit them as Occamies were very rare nowadays.

Maybe she was dreaming being here. She had done that before, went through the whole day only to wake up and realize she hadn't embarked on her day quite yet.

She wished it would rain. The Rolling-Land Hippocampus would come out from hiding as it doesn't like water. If it came out, they would believe her.

The whole pitch swelled and she wondered if the tip was overflowing, and then she saw the boy with broken wings fall to the ground. The place was swarming and she couldn't get within range to get a proper view.

She felt the impact though, of what had happened and it made her dizzy. Once broken, wings tend not to heal the same way ever again.

It was quiet where she stood, as her house mates pushed against one another in confusion, amusement, concern, or just because.

How strange. After all, it was a time for silence.

* * *

Luna had a deep fear.

How could one look for something when one doesn't quite know what one is seeking?

What if you didn't know to seek? For if you know what you are looking for, then you have already found it, haven't you?

It bothered her. So terribly she didn't bother to use the spell Ginny had taught her. Luna preferred to sit by the window for now, as fall turned to winter, and she didn't want to miss anything.

The Prefects never searched the library. They knew the inherent truth about monsters as well. It was instinctive…monsters lurked in shadows and empty places. Luna felt loads better in the Hogwarts Library. She loved eyes, just not so narrowed and distant. The library was the best place, with the Forbidden Forest coming in for a close second.

In the Forest, you could see the night become day, then in the library, the day become night. Luna wondered which had been first. Like lumos was magic unspoken from a former nox, and then the same…like a song un-played. It existed before the instrument, right? Luna preferred that to the latter. It made her the most happy and she hummed a few songs to make them real, in the quietness among the mounds of paper.

Someone chuckled.

Luna looked up, curious. It suddenly seemed cold, a distinct chill in the air. Her hair stood up on her arms as a result and she imagined her breath misting before her. Wrong…this feeling was wrong.

She stood up slowly, wand at ready. Yet there was a bigger presence here. Maybe just because it came from the air. She thought of chameleon creatures once more. Then her skin bleeding to grey…

"Ginny?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

Or her other half…

"Please don't let it be," Luna found herself reciting. Ginny had seemed to accept her, if not just a little bit. She rather it be a true blue monster than the red-head. Footsteps seemed to circle around her, pacing and waiting. Oscillating between an unspoken decision, question, answer…

Luna counted, memorized the rhythm. And she couldn't help it, mimicking it back with her feet. She wanted to remember it, store it away for later. She was angry that she could not, for the life of her, remember how Ginny Weasley walked. If she had, she would know for sure whether it was her or not.

The footsteps stopped, cut off suddenly, possibly confused by her own rhythm drowning its rhythm. Luna stopped as well and stood defiant. She told her eyes to look differently.

Look for the shape, not the color, the shape, find the shape…

She caught it by the bookshelf H-L, by Hogwarts: A History…a deviant of movement, of presence there. Something hissed behind her. Hissed!

Luna spun around, leaping away from the hidden foe. Chameleons don't hiss. Chamelions do! Then it could be a snake under her chair. Or Libbet had gotten confused on her way to dinner.

"Consigno memoriam," she whispered as the sound grew more menacing. Her breath caught. It was coming from everywhere, from the walls. Oh…something coming out of the walls…

Luna lost sight of the deviation. She knew something was coming, unwinding its way towards her. She could sense it in the nature of the sounds around her and then the abrupt halt.

Coming closer to devour her. Never had she been so aware of the colors, the fires, and the coldness...spreading over her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

Luna grabbed her bag, suddenly bombarded with the sense that the castle was alive and hostile. In the belly of a real, live monster.

She began to run.

Thanks to those who reviewed me! Just Silver, PickledishKiller, Loise, and Thievish One. Your kind words inspired me to continue.


	3. Language Lessons

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters are the property of J

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Author notes: Thanks to Mistress Siana for reading over this chapter and sorting it out for me.

Language Lessons

Sound travels faster.

Luna was thankful for this law as she darted out of the library, plunging into the deep shadows that lined the corridors. She didn't want to get caught out of her common room for after all, she had only wanted to clear her head. Why was it that when you state a law that it tends to unravel? She felt tricked, utterly fooled. Her one safe haven had been intruded upon.

It was like running right down the throat of the monster rather than away from it. She gripped her wand tighter, trying not to focus on the noise or the shapes on the wall. For once, she didn't imagine what this creature could be…for once her thoughts had fled before her, maybe reaching safety before she could.

She gasped as the stairs moved. She had hit too many stones running. A bitter feeling welled up at the thought of her misplaced chart. Before she realized it, Luna found herself on the wrong floor.

Either it was a very tiny bird monster that turned corners very sharply, a vapor creature that oozed though the air, propelled like one of the FellyJellies (explaining the hissing very well), or it was in the walls.

She stopped so she could try to get an idea of where the creature was, crouching behind Boris the Bewildered and listening carefully. When it was quiet, that's when the significant things took place.

Then the light changed. A new shadow added to her shadow. It was in the corridor. She crouched lower and closed her eyes tightly. It always helped her to think. Sometimes beasts might be soothed by hearing their own noises back at them.

There was a sliding on the stones, something scaly rubbing against the stones as if this corridor was too tight a fit. There was a stale scent in the air. The heaviness of it covered her like a shroud, and she hoped it covered her from sight. It wheezed with a dry wetness, rasping. Tears were forming behind her closed eyelids.

She whispered, "Reddiditum memoriam."

The pattern of slight hissing issued from her wand. Luna hoped for the best and kept her eyes closed to breathe. It was colder where she was…she imagined a giant head over her head, shadowing her small figure. She might have also imagined a hiss with a definite surprised note. Laughter was threatening to bubble out of her and she cupped a trembling hand over her mouth. She peeked over Boris's scrunched up shoulder to see if she was right.

Nothing there.

She brushed her robes off lightly. The air even tasted different when one wasn't afraid...when one was alive.

Luna decided right there and then. She wasn't ever, ever going to be afraid. All fear did was make one unable to think or rationalize. All her thoughts had tasted fear and found it more repulsive than a salmon flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.

She had to halt a few times as a Prefect would walk quickly by. The thing was…they were afraid. So they could not see her when she ducked behind the statues and blended into the scenes in tapestries.

Luna thought the knight looked particularly beautiful tonight, with all its spots and rusted hinges. She made it inside and collapsed in her customary chair. What a wonderful thing it was, to be able to sit and let her mind catch up. She walked around looking at portraits. She did a few tricky Defense Against the Dark Arts questions on a spare bit of parchment. Her book was still missing.

She whispered her spell once more, listening to the sibilant noises (orders?). It varied too much, twirling and biting into itself. Her flesh crawled again. Her hands were wet with sweat.

When she awoke, she found that a few grapes had been placed by her hand. Startled, she sat up and watched them roll across the thick carpet.

'What on earth…'

Luna decided to look up if grapes could be a death omen…one can never be too careful.

* * *

The next day was one of whispers. Colin Creevey had been attacked on his way up to see Harry Potter.

"It wasn't Harry Potter!" she declared to the startled Hufflepuffs and their ringleader, Libbet. "If you'd think about it, he had been injured. If he was injured, he wouldn't have been able to injure Colin. If you have any sense then that should make sense."

The Hufflepuffs ignored her. Truth indeed…it was as if they wanted it to be Harry Potter. She couldn't understand why. Why should it be someone whose name is easy to know and repeat? Why should it be someone who had been so hurt in life? If you had been hurt, why would you cause hurt? He was a very good flyer too, if she was remembering properly. Someone with harmful, heavy thoughts would not be light enough to fly.

It was common sense.

"Was I talking to you?" Macmillan retorted when Luna stopped by the Hufflepuff table. "Stop eavesdropping."

"I can't help overhearing you. You are whispering so loudly that I thought you wanted everyone to hear you. Don't you think you should wait for the facts?"

"What would you know about facts, Loony?"

"Oh, so you're Loony Lovegood," another one said excitedly. "That dotty Ravenclaw who wanders around with her he-."

Luna thought that was a good time to leave as the conversation was losing its focus point. Potions had been by far the worst.

Professor Snape hadn't bothered to quell the talking among the cauldrons. In fact, his lip was curiously uncurled.

She found herself pouring in a little more than was necessary, but it was reacting most wonderfully. It was even stirring itself, making ripples across the surface and that was an indicator of a good potion.

Maybe if she trained her eyes to look like that more often, she would see that shape again. Oh! The pattern too…the rhythm of the steps! Luna gasped. She could have been searching this whole entire time for the insidious pacer. She looked around and then she saw something curious by the window.

Was it the shapeless shape?

A spotted hand slammed down in front of her, knocking over her quill and ink. It bled into a thick, noxious-smelling substance that was also spreading over the table.

The potion was running over. Snape's black eyes bore into her light ones. His eyes were quite inky, almost void of any light, as if someone had just decided to paint his face than give it any other expression. How unusual…if it rained, he would lose his face. And how would he see? Or talk?

"-a menace, Lovegood. An abysmally harebrained menace. It's a wonder that you're even in this school, least of all in Ravenclaw. If you are not going to use your brain for this potion, if you have one, then leave!"

Luna put her quill in her bag and walked out.

Snape seemed to go into shock, staring after her with his mouth half-open. The remaining students looked at him thunderstruck, with their own potions forgotten.

The Potions master turned his glare upon them all. He didn't have to say a word. They hastily returned to their tasks.

* * *

It was quite strange that a professor would let her leave but she always wanted to do as a professor said, if it was within reason.

Harebrained…hares were quite quick, weren't they? She had wished he hadn't shouted so. It was quite an unhealthy way to express oneself.

It seemed a great deal of students had sought the sun for today. The colors of red were the strongest as a batch of Gryffindors sat huddled by the lake, trying to bait the giant squid to stick out a tentacle. Of course, giant squids are fond of pudding, not treacle tarts.

She stood in the middle of the courtyard, unsure of which way to go. But if you didn't know where you were going, did it matter? All she knew was that she didn't want to go towards any blue robes today.

Luna found a nice spot under a tree, near the edge of the forest. She saw the huge figure of the grounds-keeper by his hut, eying a wire pen. Luna wondered if he was clearing his head or just looking at invisible shrinking Chibledingers that moved very quickly indeed.

Something dark and glistening flashed in the corner of her eye

Right by her, standing to the side was a winged…corpse of a horse. A bat-cross of a horse perhaps, a thing born of knots and under water…

Luna remained perfectly still, watching. It really wasn't that horrible to look at for it seemed it was just a part of the world, of a cycle that no one wanted to speak of. Yet there it was, right there, the Quietus of the Forbidden Forest.

Before she realized it, she had crept closer, reaching out to touch it. It turned its gaze on her, lifting a shredded wing.

"Don't run. I won't hurt you. You…you have to let me know if you're…real."

And that she wasn't loony, dotty, and that her mind didn't play tricks on her.

She had to know if what she believed in was what she had a right to believe in. Luna was beyond fear at this point. If her hand went through this specter then she might really be Loony Lovegood, not Luna Delphine Lovegood.

"You're not so bad," she whispered to it, with its skin not too rough. She followed its sightless gaze over towards the castle. "You know, don't you? That Hogwarts has a necrosis in it, something eating away at all that makes it magic. Can you tell me what I should do?"

It gave no answer. At that moment, a herd of second year Slytherins walked by, laughing their heads off at the girl who seemed to be talking to thin air.

"That one should be in St. Mungo's with the rest of the crazies," a pug-nosed girl commented rather loudly.

The dark horse left due to the unpleasant sound, and it disappeared into the thick of the forest once more. Luna picked up her paper. No matter what they said, she didn't have the crazies, which sounded like bugs to her. No…she was right.

Luna walked past with her head held high, wondering at how time flew by. The sky had grown crimson and the leaves were scattered about like a great rug, and you could walk with a spring in your step due to them. Maybe Leaf-Ruffled Platners were hidden under them.

Something red stood out at her, among all the brown and pumpkin orange. It was a feather and a big one at that, marvelous and a harbinger. She placed it behind her ear and continued on her way, hoping she wasn't too late for dinner.

* * *

Snape hadn't been as understanding as it had appeared.

"A hundred points," Penelope breathed at the table, waving her goblet about in the air. It made a prism of colors on the otherwise dull table and she saw a bird dart by. "Never…never in the history of this house has that many been taken away because of one student, Lovegood. I'm this close to reporting you to Flitwick. If you weren't a first year…" Penelope narrowed her fingers to demonstrate how close she was, though Luna believed the portion was a bad analogy seeing that it was more a mind frame. Besides a large particle of dust could be in between her fingers and dust shouldn't be involved in the mind, unless you have an empty one.

Her house mates were stale-faced and empty-eyed, and she really wanted to go elsewhere.

"And you skipped the classes after the fiasco with Snape. Do you not… Snape sought me out, in my potions class, to speak to me about your behavior and tell me how…how I shouldn't even call myself a Prefect if my house is…"

Penelope cut off, apparently at a loss for words to describe the atrocity that had occurred.

"Well that's rather silly of him, seeing that I am not you, and you are not me, and-"

Penelope held up her hands. "Snape's reported you to Dumbledore. We'll be seeing him right after breakfast. You'd better hope I-."

The curly headed girl broke off, engaging in warfare with her eggs, and Luna was left wondering at what she had done exactly. Professor Snape had told her to leave if her mind had not been into the potion. Had everyone gone mad? Do their words not mean anything at all?

She was frog-marched up the hallways by the Prefect who huffed and puffed all the way. Luna wished Penelope had been in Hufflepuff where the rest of that sort was. It was like being blindsided by a particularly prune colored train. They had reached a statue of a griffin, with ruby eyes and a false smile.

"Lemon Drops," Penelope spat out, with venom dripping off the Drops part which Luna thought was unnecessary as the word was still the same either way. Maybe Penelope was the Heir with that kind of hairy hissing.

The griffin sprung to life and they were admitted to a winding staircase, sliding its way to the sky. The Head Master should be at the very top, near the clouds. Dumbledore's head reminded her of clouds with all his white tuffs.

Inside there were portraits of headmasters of all sorts and sizes, most of them asleep. She hoped the Prefect would whisper.

Headmaster Dumbledore was seated behind his desk with hands making a triangle. About to summon a storm on the mountain top where drops of liquid gold and light will illuminate all the empty places and nooks and no monster shall step foot or claw or tail into the library! Or he was just in very, very deep thought. Luna smiled. Penelope cleared her throat nervously.

Azure eyes peered up at the pair, seeming to study them both. Luna had the sudden impression he could have peered right into her thoughts. Her smile lessened. She did not like that idea at all.

"Miss Lovegood, I'm assuming," the headmaster said kindly.

"Yes, the first year I've mentioned to you, sir," Penelope shot out. "Not only has her performance in classes been questionable, she-."

"That is enough, Miss Clearwater. I believe Miss Lovegood and I are capable of talking about this matter ourselves. And you have Charms right now, do you not?"

"E-yes, headmaster."

The wizened old man with clouds for hair mentioned for her to take a seat. His eyes now seemed like the blue you see under the tail of a dragon about to crush you. Luna sat down hurriedly, taking a glance around. Like a moth to a flame, she locked on floating orbs which danced around with messages she itched to uncover. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Would you care for a lemon drop?" he asked, holding out a bag full of yellow pearls.

Luna would have chanced it but the word lemon made her hesitate. Right now was the worst time for puckered lips.

"No thank you, but thank you," she answered back. Dumbledore looked distinctly amused and set the bag aside.

"I hope Miss Clearwater has made known the details about why I've called you here."

"No, sir, she had not made it very clear at all," Luna began, only to be distracted once more by a plumage of red feathers. A phoenix…from the fires and ash of lore. She gasped in delight, wondering if perhaps it could have been a phoenix feather she had plucked out of the decaying leaves. How fitting after seeing that Quietus in the forest….

"Miss Lovegood…Luna," Dumbledore called out and she snapped back at attention. "Even though Professor Snape mentioned your behavior in his class, that is not the reason you are here. I would have loved to see the look on his face myself."

The headmasterlaughed and she found it sounded like a deep ocean, with both good and bad inside, bad memories covered up with marble of goblin ore.

"Nevertheless, I trust you know not to test your luck now with Professor Snape or with any of your professors. You will be in their classes unless you are sick, and then you will be in the hospital wing.

Understood?"

Luna nodded quickly, sensing even more was to come.

"Now to the point, which is always the most important part…on the night our young mister Creevey was attacked, magic was performed in the corridors at half past one. Miss Clearwater stated that she has reason to believe you were not in your Common Room at that time."

Her breath caught in her throat and her hands tightened around the arms of the chair.

"Can you explain this to me?" Dumbledore questioned lightly.

"I was in the library. I didn't realize the time had gone by so quickly. I left and performed a memory spell as I was trying to keep the thoughts in my head."

She shook. This is the first time she had ever…why couldn't she tell him? About Ginny, about the hissing monster, about the grapes...She knew why.

He might give her that empty-eyed look and from him, she couldn't bear that look. She had no proof except for the hissing and that itself could have been from any manner of beast.

"Ah, I've often been a victim of misplaced thoughts myself. But, alas, that does not explain fully why you have been out of your common room several times past curfew. Miss Clearwater states that your dorm mates have told her that you haven't slept in your bed for weeks."

He knew. That she was lying. Not lying, withholding information. But he wouldn't believe her. Like everyone else. He would think her a liar either way or just loony.

"I-I'm afraid my dorm mates are a bit distant from me, sir. But at the beginning, I missed the password, so I couldn't get pass the knight and I didn't want to bother anyone. I was in the library mostly, thinking."

The headmaster stared at her without blinking and she was crumpling. She had to say. She had to!

"I-I didn't see anyone in the library, sir."

The carpet seemed to burn with the orange stained glass on the window. They were both caught in this unending, flame dance. He might toss the sword her way and it would burn her and burst forth with ropes to bind her, that snake towards her and hang her up for all to see and she would replace the Hogwart's bell.

"I did find that there were sounds in the corridors."

"What kind of sounds?" he questioned quickly.

"Sounds that you hear at night, only at night," she whispered and his burrow furrowed. "I think it was coming from the walls, sir. A hissing of air, or pipes, or something," she finished, red-faced. Not to mention devious deviations. But enough…This was all she could do for now.

"You saw no one out of bed besides yourself?"

"No, sir," Luna whispered. "Not a soul."

This was not lying because a soul itself was not what she saw. A person with a soul perhaps…

"You may go, Miss Lovegood." She thought she heard disappointment heavy in his voice…and no more Luna either. "Stay in your common room from now on."

She hurried out, feeling strangely worn down and rubbed raw. She hoped her face wasn't red.

* * *

Professor Lockhart was quite like the color forget-me-not, Luna thought to herself, vague and a true blue forget me not one tends to forget.

He did have a very large smile; she preferred to measure how far it would go and then slide to the floor. His teeth were like Zonko's Snapping Jaws or chattering Ice Mice, and she kept her feet up, tucked under her in class…for the day will come when his teeth spring to life, fall to the floor clicking and snapping madly, and attack any unwary foot.

It was the week before Christmas vacation and Luna was in her last class of the day.

She had signed up to stay over vacation because her father would be extremely busy tying up as he called it 'loose ends'. He would come to Hogsmeade and come to fetch her for dinner three days before Christmas. For then, he reasoned, she could spend time with her friends during the holiday.

There was a problem though.

He had wanted to meet some of her friends, if they were staying as well. Luna had written back her second…or was it the third…revision of events. It burned in her memory, and she often was caught saying it out loud.

'Yes, that would be a lovely idea, Daddy. I've told them all about you and the paper, and they want to meet you.'

It was when she sent away the owl she realized she had done a very silly thing indeed.

It was just he had wanted so badly for her to have friends. His writing had practically screamed it at her, with the curves and the red ink and the sharp writing…the only person she could think of was Ginny. After all, Ginny was the one who had thought up the name for the paper in the first place.

Yet the small Gryffindor had always looked away when Luna tried to approach her. It was strange and rather hurt her feelings as they had talked about so much before, even angles and words. Had she offended her with her last, parting comment?

Luna was quite caught in the middle. She would have to seek out the red-head quickly before the end of the day. She was sure none of the other Ravenclaws would agree to meet her father. Especially after a week ago…

Luna had been out around the grounds in between classes, and another batch of older Ravenclaws had been nearby, talking with Hagrid about a strange shrinking lizard he had found, that even mimicked human speech! Luna had wanted to journey over but the idea of facing her house mates more than was necessary made her sit and observe them instead.

She thought about light on their faces, illuminating the dark looks they often had, and she wondered if the hissing would sound so bad in the day. Luna took out her wand and whispered "Reddiditum memoriam."

She was so deep in her listening that she didn't realize that the ground had become alive.

" 'hat in the name of?"

Luna was lifted off her feet by a huge hand and found herself twirling like a falling leaf.

The Ravenclaws were staring in horror as Hagrid held her by the back of her cloak. Luna looked down. Snakes were everywhere, in all colors of poisonous green and decaying brown and black, in mounds, making swirls in the snow, hissing and fighting each other to get closer to her. It looked like as if they were trying to form a stairway up to her. She quickly whispered an extremely silent version of 'Silencio'.

As it happened, Luna, in her search for the Heir, had begun to mimic people's steps, trying to remember the rhythm. Sometimes when she felt it was slipping away like water through her fingers, she would tap it out hurriedly. She began to ignore the looks. Let them look. This search was important! No one had matched

Ginny was her only hope, and then, she could isolate her so that she could clearly hear her footsteps. Yes, it was a good idea.

Luna left her last class with a renewed sense of purpose. She would find Ginny Weasley, if it was the last thing she did! She danced proudly through the halls, wondering at why she had missed such an opportunity! People paused to stare but she didn't notice.

She would find out what makes Ginny…erm, tick, was it?

And what would she say though?

She needed some words that would convince the girl to help her. Maybe she would begin with the credit to the paper. The wondrous word! And that her father really, really wanted to meet Ginny. A trip to Hogsmeade before third year, with permission of course, and they would be going with an adult.

Wondrous winter, wondrous day, she thought. She made her way up to the second floor, thinking about the library. She hadn't been back since the shape had appeared to her, laughing at her. This was the first time Luna ever thought of laughter in that way. So deep was she in her revelation about the shade and its effects that she was startled by a wailing coming from the bathroom.

"Why are you screaming at me? I haven't been in this bathroom before, since I've been here!"

"You nasty little girl! Cruel, lying girl! You said such heartless things to me! I know no one cared about moaning miserable Myrtle, but you-you are a heartless monster! YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU WERE GLAD I WAS DEAD, THAT THE TOILET WAS WHERE I BELONGED WITH-!"

Ginny Weasley came skidding out of the bathroom so fast her hair became a red blur like the feather she had found outside in the dead leaves.

"Ginny!" Luna called out in surprise, holding out her arms to stop the girl from falling.

The Gryffindor looked ill and held on to her arms tightly. Black purplish circles were under her eyes, the former brown turning to pools of mud almost, or just a mass of leaves with something hidden and moving under there. Her skin was more translucent than she last remembered. In her arms the veins showed through. Blue blood indeed…

"What's the matter? How can I help you?" Luna whispered. Ginny focused on her and jerked away.

"It's you," the girl muttered darkly…in a clipped beat. Luna blinked.

"Yes, I am me, and you are Ginny, and you look ill," she cleared up the situation, unlike Clearwater who never cleared anything and never drank water. "Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?"

A huge shriek burned through the walls.

"No, no, no, no more of that nonsense! I am not-ill," Ginny yelled. "I am not-like-…"

Luna was confused. What did Ginny mean by that? Perhaps her question would make Ginny answer, thus making her focus on something else. Or at least, make her stop looking at her like that, with those empty-muddied pools from the Queerditch Marsh.

"I was wondering-," Luna began in determination. Something crashed against a stall and the taps were being turned off and on, making it difficult of speak. She imagined squeaks becoming intertwined from the huge noise. Little Nettlets pouring out of the taps in the girl's bathroom… "If you'd-um-my father would like to meet you."

"Excuse me?" Ginny looked amazed. "What for?"

"Well, you thought up the name! And-my father would love for you to join us for dinner, I think three days before Christmas, and right before eight…well a quarter till at least, more than a fourth, I know."

"What are you on about?" Ginny glared at her. "Making things up to get people to-."

Luna felt her ears turning a slow red. Thank goodness her hair covered them like a trusty hat.

"I am not making it up, you said the word 'Quibbling', and it was a good word, and I told you about my father being a journalist."

A strange thing happened then. Ginny leaned against the wall, as if unable to support herself.

"When?..." she choked out, brokenly. "When did you speak to me?"

"I ran into you in the corridors. We were both locked out of our common rooms. And you helped me get back into mine, with that spell you taught me. Don't you remember?"

Ginny closed her eyes, her breathing becoming shallow and raspy. Luna was at a loss at what to do. Was Ginny thinking with her eyes closed? Why…there was nothing to be afraid of. Or did Ginny have a bigger fear than she did?

"You're making that up," Ginny finally whispered. "Everyone says that about you, even your own house mates. You heard what Myrtle was saying and you'd thought it would be funny to…"

Ginny pushed her aside, dashing down the hallway and out of sight. If only it was out of mind as well…Luna stood in the corridor for a long time, with her bag at her feet. Did she dream it up? Was she really mad?

"That was rather rude," she whispered to no one but herself and the things in the wall.

Luna cautiously opened the door, walking into a growing puddle of water. No Nettlets, but the taps were overfilling with an opaque water. She calmly shut off the taps, one by one. She noticed one didn't work at all and seemed lonely on its own. Luna placed her hand on it and noticed it was colder than the rest, after being unused for so long.

There was a slight whimpering in the third stall with half the door hanging off, splintered.

Inside was a hunched, small figure…but of a murky fog. Did one ever notice how white ghosts' eyes are? They were like eggs and still appeared solid even though the rest was all smoky oblivion. Eyes and the soul are one thing, after all, and something could always hatch out of the egg.

White, big eyes peered at her through milky spectacles.

"You are a ghost," Luna said.

"Oh, no, I hadn't noticed. WONDERED WHY I DIDN'T HAVE A BODY!"

"I haven't seen you in the Great Hall at the feasts. How come?" Luna questioned curiously.

She had made great friends out of all the ghosts, even the slightly morbid ones the other students couldn't see. There was one in the Ravenclaw common room she called Boy Blue and he was quite distressed, crying for someone to notice. Yet whenever she did approach, he would disappear.

"No one wants me, Miserable Myrtle, there. This place ruined me. I died in here. And no one cared then and no one cares now except to come make fun of me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Luna responded. "If you try and keep trying, someone will be kind. Though if it's so bad, why don't you leave?"

"I did leave once, for a whole year. I made Olive Hornby's life a living hell. She always teased me terribly. I spoke to the Prefects about it oh so many times. There was this one who was always nice to me, but I think he hated me in the end too, always telling me what to do and taking away points! Well, didn't I tell him a thing or two! Oh, and Olive, oh, did I make her cry! She filed a suit to the Ministry and I got sent back to my toilet."

"Oh," Luna muttered politely. "May I ask you another question? Oh, I just did. Perhaps you might answer a question after this one."

Myrtle was obviously pleased with all this attention that didn't include throwing wads of gum at her to see if it would stick at all. She nodded.

"What is it like to die?"

"OHHHH…it is like feeling…a great breath come out of you, and then you can see everything for a moment. I saw my own body below me and someone running out. I should have looked closer at them, I know, but I had never seen myself dead. How often do you see that?"

Myrtle looked at Luna smugly, as if daring her to disagree.

"You are free for a moment and then something pulls on you, tugs a bit. Well, I don't like being pulled nor did I want to leave my body there. All I could think was 'Oh, I'm dead, murdered, killed to death, in here forever, no one will come and look, who did it, who, I can't live anymore, feel anymore'… Even if you can see, you can't feel much. Then I thought about those big, yellow eyes and I feel even further back until I was…as I am. No more tug. No more pull."

Myrtle quieted down, thoughtful. "You know, I've always wanted to find that person and haunt him to the day he died…drive him mad. But I did not know who to haunt, so I made do with Olive."

"Him?"

"Oh, yes. It was a boy. I heard a boy's voice whispering something quite strange and came out to tell him off for being in the girl's toilet. Then again, I just remember these eyes before the Great Final Breath and my mind just almost…everything was crumbling and I could hear it crumbling! Then a great cold sweeping over me. It didn't hurt, you know."

"Good," Luna whispered, thinking about her own loss. "Do you think…if you were to feel that tug again, you would go? If you wanted it to come back, wished hard enough, I think it would."

"Absolutely not! I loathe being pushed around, I just told you! Better off here than being tugged on."

Luna nodded, feeling her own tug of pity.

"You know, Ginny's not that bad. She's just ill, I think."

Myrtle looked distinctly put off, eyes glowing darkly. Her whole round face turned into a grimace.

"HOW CAN YOU TAKE UP FOR HER? You can't imagine… She's here at night to tell me the cruelest things, like I was worthless when I was alive, an ugly blemish. She even told me about my family, that she had found out how they died and that they were wiped away as well, purged like the-."

Luna snapped her head up, gaping. "She used that word? That exact word? Oh! Oh, that means more than anything, more than a thousand guesses. That's a piece of the Heir, right there!"

She darted out, leaving the disgruntled ghost behind, then darted back in.

"If Ginny comes back, you tell me. Tell me when and what she says, how she says it, how many ways she says it, with shine or not."

Then Luna was gone. Myrtle shook her head, in dismay.

"And I thought…she was one of the normal ones."

However, Luna's great ideas were put on hold for two things. She had the habit of signing up for everything, just in case she missed something.

As she ran by the Great Hall, she noticed that she had signed up for the Dueling Club, which was at eight pm that very night. An excuse to be out at night, out of the stuffy common room, and perhaps even a brief trip outside, to see the night sky…perfect for her mood that Ginny had put a ragged blanket on…

Luna wandered into the Great Hall to see a mass of hissing snakes. Well, Slytherins. She listened to them long enough, talking in sibilant whispers about Mudbloods and Locked Hearts, if she heard them right. She had gasped at that statement, making a few serpents turn around. How sad it was to have a Locked Heart.

She repeated the same thing to them, offering her sympathy. The majority just stared at her, tense as if expecting a trick. That look was always on a Slytherin's face, she noted. A blonde boy with cold grey eyes opened his mouth to say something back. Perhaps he would agree. Luna waited expectantly.

Then he locked on to a trio coming in through the main doors, and she turned to see the boy who fell off his broom coming into the room. The stormy boy signaled two bigger Slytherins with a distinct yet subtle dip of his chin.Then they were off and Luna followed.

It was great fun.

She imagined that they were all serpents sliding through the bodies of students that could be mistaken for grass. Which made her think of the hissing from before and she mimicked the pattern once more. She had memorized every meter of the sound, even the tone. It would have been even better if she had added the menacing air.

She grabbed onto the Slytherin's cloak in front of her so she would not to lose him in the growing crowd all the while laughing at the new game she had discovered. The biggest brown-headed boy with a face of a crab and hair like quills looked back at her then quickly averted his eyes, as if unsure of what to do. She stood by him, rather than stand by the Ravenclaws.

"So do you often follow him?" she motioned to the smaller wispy boy.

His small eyes looked confused and he opened his mouth uncertainly.

"Erm-yeah."

"Do you ever take turns and let him follow you? It might be a nice change once and awhile. Routine is in a rut, you know."

He was spared from answering as a purple blaze of wings and gold darted onto the stage full of crescent moons. At first Luna thought it was an overgrown Augury, especially with that screeching noise, but alas, it was Professor Lockhart.

Luna wished she could wave her cloak around like that and get away with it. Actually, she had tried it and did a much better job in her opinion. It just didn't go over as well as expected. She felt the cloth of the Slytherin's robe and found it to be a lot nicer than hers.

"You have a very nice woven seal on these robes. Aren't school robes supposed to be standard issue?"

He stared straight ahead.

"Let me see the other side, mine's threaded you see," Luna continued onward, trying to pull the piece she held closer. The boy looked extremely nervous though she had no idea why. A pale head peeked around the stout divider to glare at her.

She instead looked the other way, behind the tall Atlas, to see him better…he was at a bad angle anyway. He looked like an idea, like Ginny had looked that night. Someone who perhaps had over-thought something… Silvery hair was more for the night yet in the day it looked like a mere fragment of a color half finished and the artist was afraid to complete it. How interesting…an incomplete boy.

They played that game for awhile as the quill head grew more and more uneasy…until the plumed Augury fellow was blown back wards, smoking slightly. The Slytherins laughed and not the nice kind. It was that double-edge sword once more.

She poked the crabby boy in the ribs.

"That's very rude. Try putting yourself in his shoes and see if you laugh."

The Slytherin quieted down. Then she spotted Snape swooping down over his prey. She hid behind the green-robed boy, the only person Snape might not look to devour. He let out a muffled protest.

"Your Head of House is quite batty. I don't want him looking at me with that ill of will."

His eyebrows shot up and it seemed as if he agreed. Lockhart was able to get to his feet and Luna spied a few burns on his robes, made by the force where he slid on the wooden stage. She was surprised a fire hadn't been started.

"Well, there you have it. That was a Disarming Charm-…"

Where did his hat go?

It was quite lovely with its swirls, perhaps it took off, spinning right out of the Great Hall.

She bent down to check under the feet of the nearest students. Nope, nothing. It might just be shy after being on that head…She kept at it until she heard Lockhart announced that they were to be divided up into pairs. Luna looked at her Slytherin friend but it seemed he had disappeared while she was on her search.

Pity that…he didn't seem so terribly nasty. Slytherins are often described as very nasty and quite terrible. But description pale in comparison to facts, Luna had discovered, making them all the more factual and with a surprise!

But now there was a question of a dueling partner. Everyone was rushing about, trying to find someone bearable before the misguided judgments of Snape and Lockhart reached them…or to settle a few scores. A terrible pity, Luna thought. Scores are never settled. They can divide and multiply. She wondered if she should have come at all. She could have taught herself.

"Well, well, isn't this a surprise? St. Mungo's let you out for good behavior."

Luna turned to see Eliza Wordsworth standing behind her with a smirk in place.

"What surprise? I must have missed it. Though I do like surprises," Luna answered.

She had long ago decided that Eliza was fond of saying meaningless things that only Eliza understood. She found it best to humor such people.

Eliza scowled. "You think you're so clever, Lovegood? Let's find out, shall we?"

It was when Eliza stood backed away and squared off directly across from her that Luna realized she had been challenged to a duel. The girl's eyes were cold and calculating with more than an air of debris. Focused to a horrific point with needles in her eyes.

Goodness, Luna thought, it did not good to focus so. You'll lose yourself. She did not want to duel with a lost girl.

Before she could decline, she found that Snape overshadowed them both with Lockhart twittering around the edges of their exclusive triangle.

"Aren't you two girls in the same house?" Lockhart asked, which was a bit off since they both had on their house color. "I've always said that dueling a member from another house would be a better learning ex-."

"No, no," Snape muttered, looking at Eliza's murderous expression. "This match is just fine."

Luna had a sinking feeling. She had discovered that when Snape said something was good, it was usually a dark night ahead. She wished it would rain his face away. But then that would be a mess.

Bother this….what spells were good for a duel? It depends on your design. She didn't want to blast Eliza with a Stunning Spell or hex. It seemed slightly antagonistic in her view.

That spell Ginny had mentioned…worked on passwords. It dissected the very core of the magic. First off, even if she was hit, she would see the pure magic of the spell and it probably would be diluted. She wondered if this spell had been attempted on a curse and/or hex.

It would make a marvelous experiment, she decided.

"Loony," Eliza hissed. "Draw your wand already."

She tried to free her wand from her robes, resolved to place it where she could reach it easier next time. Her head was where she could see what was happening, so next time, the wand would go behind the ear.

"Bow to your opponent."

Bow down already…isn't that when you lose? Luna kneeled and this caused a stir from those nearest the pair. Eliza looked absolutely enraged. Luna noted that she did not follow directions. She finally freed her wand when she was thrown down by a Jelly-Leg Jinx.

She laughed loudly at the randomness of sitting down in the middle of the Great Hall.

Sometimes she had been very tempted but felt that would be not well received. Now she didn't even need an excuse. She looked up at the enchanted ceiling and lay down on the floor, watching.

The night sky was very foggy tonight, not a star in sight. Were ghost made of fog? Are the throes of death the night of the life or merely a thunderbolt that caused a storm in its path? Rain unable to fall because you couldn't cry as a ghost, not really, so pent up rain drops cause foggy shades…she noticed the floor had circles in it.

If you looked, you could see a radiating circle. A magic circle, she was sure, and the stars orbited around it perhaps, drawn downward into the circle so the world would not be splinched.

Hogwarts is a very important place after all. If you moved the circle, would you divide the very sky? She supposed she shouldn't try it.

Snape passed by numerous times without performing the counter-curse, one time stepping on her hair and in turn knocking her radish earring into her face. Professor Snape must have bad vision.

Lockhart rushed up after a bit but Snape beat him to it at the end.

Luna smiled to herself. Snape was a bit batty; bats weren't bad though. She stretched her arms for a minute, wondering at what was next. Eliza pointed her wand at Luna eagerly, and Luna was confused as the others had not gotten into the dueling position again.

"Rictusempra," Eliza hissed under her breath.

Luna waited until it half filled her vision then hissed back (better in her opinion as she was well versed in hissing by now), "Abscido absconditum," complete with a twirl.

It hit the spell which then split right down the center, carved to perfection.

The middle was a ball of energy, swirling slightly with the motion of rotation that all useful things have, a blue flame in the very center, flapping like a very small bird. The rest, the bulk of it, shattered into drops of poured gold and warmed the cold stone, as the spell shed its skin. She was hit by the energy of the spell yet it did nothing to harm her. It simply seemed to fade or go into her, and it warmed her.

It was pure magic. Magic in its basic element is not dark or light.

Eliza dropped her wand in shock. It clattered in a startling silent room. Snape and Lockhart had paired up The Boy of Idea with The Boy Who Lived. Interesting match up…Luna moved closer, forgetting about the wordless Wordsworth.

Lockhart was performing some difficult spell which included the wand spinning of its own accord. Luna would try that some time. If it blocked harmful spells by spinning them away, then that was something worth knowing. A Levitated Spinning Wand that knocked back any manner of dangerous, devious spell into a fan of swirls and bangs. She would have to improve his style, as the wand didn't Levitate for very long.

"Serpensortia!"

Harry Potter was eye to eye with a very large snake, with poisonous scales, glistening like the Quietus's skin. It meant Death in pure form and being. Its existence was for harm, so it did not exist. Luna held her breath and hoped. Hoped The Boy would beat Death, like he had before.

Snape flew forward though not as fast as he could have. Didn't he realize what this thing was for!

"I'll take care of it for you," he drawled.

"Allow me," and the next thing Luna knew was the No-Life thing was flying in the air, and they were now in a game of chance. It smacked the second wheel of the circle and dove toward the boy on stone thirteen, becoming a shadow across the floor. Unlucky.

Then the hissing filled empty space of the room and they were all drowning because there was no room.

Luna knew the difference.

The accent was off, the meters were blotched. Fear, fear in the sound. Concern like a boat bobbing, about to be swept under, and skipping beats. No hurtful intentions. No shine. Raw and unpracticed like a bad Swish and Flick.

Harry was running towards the snake, waving his arms to direct it away. Yet the snake was drowning too and its own purpose was lost. It bobbed before the Boy, awaiting to exist again.

Then it was nothing as Snape finally dispersed it into the land of Poppies.

Harry Potter was rushed away by his friends, who were always by his side, flanking him as if they were blocking him from the rest of them. Protecting him.

Luna felt alone for a moment, with empty spaces in a sea of faces.

Quite alone…really.

* * *

The news that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth cleared up any cobwebs about him being the Heir of Slytherin.

Luna had fought to the bitter end, explaining endlessly to people who would not come out of their cave to see the light. An endless end…was what this was and it brought her spirits down.

"Listen, he was waving the snake away, away with his arms. Couldn't you hear how worried he was about the Hufflepuff?"

Edgecombe gaped at her.

"You…you utter loon…he was hissing! Hissing at the snake, chasing the thing towards the Muggle-born Hufflepuff."

"It was a bad lot of chance. He was on the thirteenth stone, his own fault. Harry didn't make him stand there. The snake landed by him, it wasn't chased towards him. Anyone with any eyes can see that," Luna stated.

Then Justin Finch-Fletchley was attacked the day after.

…It was war. This Heir had gone too far, using Harry's public hissing for an attack. How cheap…an utterly rude and decidedly cowardly way of doing things.

"What could Petrify a ghost?" Cho Chang muttered nervously to Micheal Corner at the table during a tense lunch.

What indeed…what could dry up a ghost? Solidify fear of death, tears unshed, someone who had resisted the Tug? Something immensely powerful.

She spent a lot of time outside her common room. Needless to say, it was emptied out with only a few remaining Ravenclaws left. There had been a mad dash to return home for the holidays.

Luna didn't know why she didn't go home after all that had happened. Her father was going to be busy. Then…she felt she would be betraying someone if she left. Who, she did not know. She was meant to stay. The grapes had meant 'Stay'.

Whoever had been in the library with that tone was the Heir of Slytherin and had been a few spaces away from where she had stood. If she had been smart, she would have cursed the shape when she had spotted it. No matter how much she hated it, her mind would keep turning towards Ginny Weasley. Had she been at the dueling club? Did it matter, since the whole school knew of what had happened?

How to prove it was the main question. Luna did not know for sure yet what course of action to take.

There was a snow storm like she had never seen before during this holiday. It made a plea for silence and the world outside Hogwarts was blank, unassuming, and a memory of unshed grief. Every howl against the window panes burnt her as she sat up at night to listen. Somewhere someone screamed for an end to this senselessness…but the snow was a place for wolves as well. You could see their tracks.

Luna's Quietus flew above the treetops, waiting.

Sometimes…she felt she was not alone.

Her things would be rearranged, if she happened to sleep at night in the window seat.

Every time…she had counted. Her Prophets had disappeared completely where she had circled the pattern with red ink. But nothing else had been taken, just moved. Her marbles were not in order and her hats were placed in the most hard to reach places, the furry one ruined as if it got in the way of a Shredding Hex. She found pages of her notes, complete with her sketches of the Rolling-Land Hippocampus, tossed in the common room fire.

Then the more subtle touches of putting some of her clothes among the torches that hung from the ceiling. It was only by chance that she found her things at all this time. A lone sock had fallen on her head as she had been frantically searching the entire Ravenclaw dormitory.

At first, she assumed her house mates had jinxed her things before leaving, so they would not feel so bad that she had them. Yet when she stayed awake the whole night and day, none of her socks would wiggle away by themselves and they didn't appear to dislike her so as to fly of her feet.

And her mother's picture was always placed away from any damage, almost turned to an angle where the picture couldn't see the harm about to be done. It began to be a strange sort of ritual and Luna would complete it by placing the picture back in its proper spot…only to be moved again.

Once she considered jinxing her property. Then the prankster would be cursed and exposed. The only thing that came of this approach was that she forgot she had jinxed her things.

The whole day before her father came, she spent looking for the Counter-Jinx. Her hair stood up with blue sparks showering down, making it hard to see, and it was a hard to pronounce the Counter-Jinx with her teeth chattering so.

Professor Flitwick walked with her down to the Main Hall, politely not looking at her hair that much. Luna had hastily stuffed her remaining hat on before the professor had arrived.

The winking newt would not have been her first choice. It rather made the frizzle-frazzled hair more prominent as it clung to her head. Luna was quite morose. She had wanted to look nice for her father, as if she had no worries.

The small wizard noticed her unusual gloom and made small talk about her investigations with the Hippocampus.

"I have-had sketches of the tracks. I was going to make molds but then we were not allowed out of the castle for that long of time. Then it rained."

"I'm sure something will turn up again," Professor Flitwick said kindly. He paused, thinking through something. Luna could almost see the sparks going off in his head. "How are you faring with your house mates?"

Luna felt her remaining good mood plummet straight down to wherever the Giant Squid lurked. Would Flitwick tell her father about her…her not being able to…'get along'?

"Oh, beyond what I expected, actually. Thank you for asking," Luna said quickly. Then Luna spotted the blondish-grey haired man standing at the foot of the stairs, looking around at the moving tapestries with a grand smile...only his smile.

She had never run faster in her life.

Mr. Lovegood laughed in surprise as his daughter flew into his arms.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy," Luna whispered, not realizing how much so until that moment. Mr. Lovegood hugged her tightly.

"I've missed you too," he responded warmly. He tapped her hat playfully. "Ah, now, is this really in tune to the Christmas spirit?"

He took something red and white out of his winter cloak. Luna gasped. It was a red hat with a white tuff on top. She took it eagerly, feeling the fuzz lightly. It was in the shape of a lovely triangle, the basis of every good magic summoning charm.

"Does it summon snow?" she asked.

Mr. Lovegood winked. "Who knows? It's worth a try."

He took the newt off her head, smoothed down her hair, and placed the cap snugly around her ears. Professor Flitwick introduced himself and shook Mr. Lovegood's hand.

Her father looked around expectantly, his smile fading a little.

"I thought some friends of yours were joining us, Lunette," he said with an unasked question.

Luna saw Professor Flitwick open his mouth before she could open hers, and it seemed all was lost. Her father would know she was a loony and a friendless one at that.

"Ah, good, you haven't left yet," someone called to them. "I was afraid I had missed you."

Luna was confused for a moment. How was it good they hadn't left before it started snowing again, if it did, and maybe it would with this hat? And who would be…Luna felt almost bodiless as if she had died and could see everything.

Ginny Weasley was walking towards them quickly, smiling as if she hadn't a worry in the world.


	4. Moths

Disclaimer: All characters you recognize belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

Author notes: Thanks to Mistress Siana for beta-reading! Really, she's helped me so much with this chapter in every way possible and I sincerely thank her.

Moths

When a butterfly flaps its wings, there is a tornado half way across the world.

Ginny Weasley continued on her course steadily, following a pattern that had already been charted. Luna felt she was in the center of a large web and she froze, trying not to attract a certain spider's attention.

She could taste grapes. Too much red at once, Luna thought. She wouldn't have been surprised if Ginny's eyes had suddenly filled with the color. Luna noticed Ginny's scarf had been inverted, and it silvered into a mane of ash, like a sphinx has. A sliver of grey littered it like dust off a forgotten book in the library where something was covered up for a very long time and kept secret.

Ginny held out her hand towards Mr. Lovegood with a smile that was more a simile for something just out of Luna's reach. Like dash here, dash there, dot, and uncover the code if you can.

Hogwarts' clock had teeth underneath with a similar fit and time's flying once more, in sparrows instead of seconds. Though seconds were conductors of the train in the tunnel, sparrows were piercing. Not a good change.

Not one bit, even though the teeth fit.

And she did feel bitten.

"You're one of Luna's friends?"

"Luna talks about you all the time, sir" she was saying, with that simile tightly in place. "I've been looking forward to finally meeting you…saving up for it all week."

At his questioning look, Ginny motioned to her coin purse in her bag.

"Oh, everything is on me," Artemus stated firmly, patting his daughter's shoulder lightly. "I insist."

Luna noticed Ginny watching this motion out of the corner of her eye. Then the Gryffindor focused on her hat. Luna's grip on the tuff tightened.

"Is it alright with the Headmaster if Miss Weasley joins us, Professor?" Mr. Lovegood asked jovially.

Professor Flitwick, who Luna had trusted to profess a disagreement against this addition to their group (if two could be a group), nodded instead, seeming pleased.

"I'll inform Professor McGonagall about your absence," he squeaked out at Ginny and beamed at Luna. "Let me walk you to the gates."

But Luna didn't want to be walked. Not with Ginny. Most of all she didn't want Ginny to be near her father. Ginny could be the Heir, the one that made the fear in the atmosphere. Luna wondered what she was the Heir of. Of Salazar Slytherin's blood that was diluted by now?

Was she Ginny's enemy? Isthat why Ginny was here now? She didn't want to be someone's enemy. "-wrong?"

Luna looked to see Ginny standing in front of her. She was so caught that she almost spoke out, "I can't. You should know I won't make a good foe." Although they were toe to toe, head to head, Luna felt smaller.

She wouldn't because she couldn't give Ginny a piece of herself. She'd rather stay together, thank you very much. Perhaps Ginny was looking for power over her, but what was power over an hour?

"I think you know," she said. Her father and the Professor who didn't profess stood at the door, talking and waiting for them. They hadn't noticed anything amiss.

"Do I? …Isn't this what you wanted?" Ginny motioned with her head towards the door. "For your father to approve of you?"

"That's not what…" Luna paused.

"Come on, you two. The night's not getting any younger," her father called. No, Luna thought, the nights just get older with wrinkles that hide what you need to see, especially now. She feared that the moon might disappear within the inky blackness.

With her grip still on her hat, Luna walked calmly towards her father. Fear in this case…would hurt more than help. She just had to be very careful to watch her step, without moving a pawn. To make a point she hoped was sharp enough, she moved to the left of Ginny, imaging herself to be a knight because it gave her hope but besides that…she didn't want to be antagonistic.

Her father and the Professor walked steadily before them, as through they were repelled by the mere force of Ginny's presence. For the Gryffindor's steps matched up with hers.

"I must have misunderstood your request," Ginny said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Strange…I usually am not far off the mark. And it's nothing to be embarrassed about, you know."

"What do you mean,'it'? she questioned, looking for the key to Ginny's behavior. Knowing was better than being lost in a snow storm.

Luna tried to think and not let her feelings blind her.

"This little mendacity, of course," Ginny answered, not looking at her and leaving the impression she had already predetermined her reaction. "Most people hide behind them. Some live behind them. It was a bit impulsive of me to expect anything different from you, but it is quite natural."

"I…am not a liar," she said firmly. "At least…" She paused, not wanting to lie now and make it a truth. "I don't think I am."

"Ah, but that's my point," Ginny's eyes met hers once more. "There is no question that your house mates think you are one. Yet, right now, this is a lie of its own…and look. Your father accepts it, does not question it…neither does your Head of House though we can assume he is familiar with his students. It is obvious to the both of them that I am from another house and have a less than likely chance to be a close friend of yours. So…what does this behavior tell us?"

Luna tried to work through it. She had to be fast on her feet to avoid being sucked under the mat of leaves or struck by the snake underneath them

"It's the fait accompli of the world," Ginny muttered, with an unflappable half-moon smile, "The majority doesn't want the truth. They ask for it but give it to them and they find that they prefer the lie. In fact, they would go to any lengths to preserve it. What do you think war is?"

The red-head chuckled slightly at Luna's stunned expression.

"Perhaps I over-spoke my peace… I mean to say the highest value is consistency. Truth and lies are ways the average person uses to keep their little lives safe. Do something unexpected and no one will challenge you. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves."

"No," Luna broke out, appalled. "You can't let yourself believe that!"

If she agreed, her ideal would be lost and buried, and she would be the pallbearer for its burial. If she doubted, then it would fade away. "If you live a lie, it will live you. There will be no truth or lies because there wouldn't be a difference anymore."

Ginny stared at her, apparently caught out of her territory.

Luna wondered if she should have kept silent, for noise can frighten monsters. Then she was ashamed and mentally burned the thought to ashes, hoping it wouldn't rise again. No matter what, Ginny was a person too.

"I suppose someone like you would claim there is a line between the truth and a lie?" Ginny asked calmly, patiently, though Luna could tell that was the worse for wear than her casual voice or tunnel voice. "My truth may seem like a lie to you. But your truth is someone else's lie …Surely, a clever Ravenclaw like you can understand."

Snow was falling swiftly now, as to cool down the heat of Ginny's red. The path took on a convoluted form that matched Luna's mind right now. Suddenly this was much, much more than just a conversation.

It seemed as if her father and her teacher were worlds away.

"I see what you are saying. I hear it as well, but I see it too. You're right. It is just your right and you hold it tighter than my right. But I know that my right isn't everything. The truth is too big for one person…if they don't believe in it. We all are far from the truth but it could be that you can be closer than someone else. You have to believe in truth and strive for it, even if you see past yourself. Then it won't be so big and shapeless. We'll never reach it but it's the attempt that counts."

A shadow darted across them both, much darker than the night, and Luna saw that her Quietus had flown over them, supposedly into a more preferable part of the forest. Perhaps to a place where only a Quietus can go…

While the youngest Weasley watched its progress, she smirked.

"You sound like a Hufflepuff," Ginny informed her, wrinkling her nose in disdain and crossing her arms.

Her freckles seemed like dots that scattered into a secret message but Luna couldn't read that.

"I do?" Luna questioned in doubt. She hadn't huffed and puffed, but really that wasn't what was bothering her. Although she loved ideas, she didn't want to become an idea or a dirge of past words.

"To me, hiding behind a mere attempt is mindless. You fall short of your goal and cling to…a lie," Ginny smiled, and Luna got the impression that Ginny had relaxed into following the track of things. It seemed Luna had lost her point.

"Either you succeed or you fail. It is the weak willed who let the word 'attempt' come out of their mouths. Don't tell me…" Ginny gasped in mock surprise. "You don't believe in failure. Perhaps you have never known it because you don't have an ounce of ambition in you."

Luna stopped, as if she was slapped.

"You can know ideas, Ginny," Luna said evenly. "But you can't know an individual who is more than just words and have hidden places even they don't know about. You are so far from the truth that it is an untruth. Not a lie. A misstep…"

"So sorry," Ginny replied, moving back on the balls of her feet in an action that conveyed utter ease. "I'm just going by the sorting. You might remember that hat that could delve into you…they say Gryffindor made it but if you consider the very nature of the item, it could be a myth. Not a lie. A myth." Ginny chuckled and placed her hands in her real true blue pockets. The Thorn wavered a bit.

"Give it some thought. You like to attempt the process of thinking, don't you? What separates…let's say Ravenclaw and Slytherin, for instance? Thought but no ambition is a Ravenclaw. They repeat a great many verses and facts from books they believe no one else has seen. Occasionally there will be one of you creative enough to think of something for yourselves but in the end it's all theory. No goals and no results…"

"Then I think…that ambition doesn't suit Slytherin."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"This should be interesting," she commented back, and Luna was unsure whether she was talking to herself, someone else behind them or in front of them, if her father could hear after all, or merely replying.

Luna burned forth for the first time in her life.

"A Slytherin can't wear ambition well. It should be aspiration. Asp for snake and a lot of ire. You can hear the sound of being eaten away. Ration for a certain amount. A result can be the end. Thoughts never end. To me, that is ambition."

Slytherins wouldn't wear it well, she thought. They'd get it wrinkled beyond recognition, stained by marks that will never come off. She was sure if you cling to the earth, you were sure to get dirty. Especially on your belly.

As Luna fought for her own control, she saw that Ginny was undergoing a similar chasing of the Snitch herself. A Snitch that had just told something unpleasant to the ear…

Was this what the Truth was? Thousands of Snitches darting by with golden promises yet gone before you could snatch it…

Ginny seemed to be in more than a match. She seemed to be at war.

The red-head's gaze was burning bright and the mouth twitched. Eyes had the most power of all.

"To each his own," Ginny replied lightly, with a curious blazing sound of blasé. It was almost a tired sound.

"What a quaint, little speech. You have this most ingenuous way about you, Luna, even for a first year. All the better…and here I was, afraid I was going to have a boring time."

Luna relaxed a bit. She hadn't meant for herself or her thoughts to be covered in gems and she was glad that Ginny got half of her point at least.

What was 'this'? Ginny shrugged again, as if removing a scratchy article of clothing.

"It's really the end that matters," she whispered when Luna was not quite besides her and Luna instinctively knew that those words were Ginny's own truth.

"How are your brothers?" she asked. "Are they having a good holiday?"

"You know the type…they are easily amused," Ginny answered without interest, her answer punctuated by the crunching of the snow underneath her boots. "I suppose they'll resort to any means to pass the time. That lot misses the most obvious of things…You saw it, didn't you?"

It was slipped in like such an afterthought that Luna was caught in the undertow or more like the undertoad. She thought back. She saw the path and the out of place stone that looked like a new creature had burrowed into it.

"The Quietus…the horse with holes in its wings. Yes, I did see, if that's what you saw."

"Qui-It's a Thestral, dear," Ginny answered with slightly slippery tone. Luna imagined she was trying to drop a weight with it but Luna really didn't care. The weight had already been dropped as far as she was concerned. And she was concerned. Her name was better for the creature.

"No, it's a Quietus. No one hears it and no one sees it. Well, except us, I guess. I wonder why."

"You mean you—you didn't try to find out what it was?" Ginny seemed offended. "You can see it because you have seen death," the red-head answered without an inflection of the voice.

Could death change your sight? Is that what Ginny was saying? It could burn your irises into lens that could see more…could it change something inside of you?

"I'm assuming…" Ginny continued, studying her in that way of hers…out of the corner of her eyes. "…it was your mother's death. That's why she's not here with your father now for the holiday. That's why his opinion means so much to you. That's why you asked me to come with you tonight. So he won't have to cope with another burden."

"Yes," Luna muttered. "You're on the mark."

Perhaps Ginny did know more about sparrows than Luna.

"I usually am."

"Who did you see die?" Luna asked. "Your mother?"

For Luna had noticed Ginny's thoughts had been drawn to death of a mother before any other person. It made sense, how the thoughts had found the truth, but the path had still been too broad to be as sure as Ginny sounded. There were too many will-o-the-wisps to be led safely out of the forest of possibilities.

Ginny's complacency vanished.

"No," she responded instantly, in such a tone of a haunted place that Luna didn't question her further.

Luna Lovegood did feel something pass between them though. Also she had a small hope. She knew Ginny Weasley a bit better now. She had knowledge to now climb the ledge and not fall.

For she decided it was not worth it.

No matter what happens, whether I am with a friend or an enemy, Luna told herself. I will learn from this experience. I will take it and grow and know. It won't be her experience. It will be mine.

They walked in silence until they reached the gates. Professor Flitwick wished them a good time, patting Luna's arm brightly like a silent 'Well done'.

Silent night, Luna thought. For all that was said, there was more left unsaid. And it wasn't over yet.

Luna's father ushered them through the entry with a wave of his hand.

Professor Flitwick made his solitary way back to the castle, his mind wandering back to his student's eyes. He had never seen Luna Lovegood's usually dreamy eyes so focused before and he wondered what had brought about this wonderful change.

&&&

There were too many Ginnys in the world.

The minute they walked out of the gates Ginny's tone evolved into a bouncy creature, full of light and happy thoughts. Quite the opposite of the girl who had walked with her to the gates. It was as if Ginny had shed her skin after tasting a bit of every personality she could employ. Luna was astounded.

How many masks did this girl have in her possession? Then Luna gasped silently to herself. This girl reminded her of a snake, hiding under leaves and darting its head out to lash out at unsuspecting ankles because it didn't have ankles of its own. Asp indeed!

Or maybe not even that…maybe that was too much of a sense for what she had seen.

They walked almost head to head, barring her way. It appeared that somehow they had become fused at the hip and it would be a messy business cutting them apart…

"How long have you and Luna known one another?" Mr. Lovegood asked eagerly.

"I first knew of her since the train, but we really didn't meet then. We didn't have much time to talk. It was in library where I truly met her. She was engrossed in a book that I wanted to borrow, and she loaned it to me. I don't have much time to read for enjoyment lately but I think I'll have more time after I get into a routine."

"Have you enjoyed your year so far?"

"Oh, immensely. But I can safely say that Luna's made it a lot more enjoyable than it would have been."

Her father had a bounce in his step. Luna wondered if her foot had a mind of its own…for it desperately wanted to trip Ginny.

"I remember my first year at Hogwarts," her father said fondly, his tone lighter than she had heard in ages.

"My friends and I…well, we were a bit of trouble-makers, actually. Best years of my life. I won't tell you everything we did. I don't want to be a bad influence for you girls," he finished laughing and actually seeming to be back in the best years of his life…which he hadn't told her about himself. Luna realized this suddenly and it caused a hiatus in her thoughts, a high one at that.

"Gryffindor, right?" Ginny was asking without really asking…

It was near Christmas that she had discovered her father's house, but she thought she knew before she knew. She didn't remember…and that made her sad but…she didn't remember why her mother said it. She wanted to say trials, secrets under dining room floors, and the like.

Her father had wanted something done to fix it.

'That's the Gryffindor in you, dear.' From then on, Gryffindor was the fixer…for Luna.

Her father had laughed and said he supposed it was. From behind her book, her mother's eyes peered over the rim. 'Just don't do anything too brash this time, Artemus.'

Gryffindor the defender, findor of Causes and brash gold…Luna preferred thoughts but a part of her had always loved the brash.

"Why yes, red and gold were my old colors! What gave it away?"

There were lights everywhere, fairies she imagined lighting the way. Christmas carols became the wind, even though there was no song. Hogsmeade welcomed them but Luna felt no sincerity of it. The windows reflected people who were not involved with what was taking place in Hogwarts or now. The snow was the only credible sound she could trust.

"Pranks are the trademarks of Gryffindor. All my good friends in Gryffindor can't stand being unnoticed. What better way than a good show? I mean, as long as everyone's laughing and it's all in good fun."

"We do keep things from getting boring around the old castle, don't we?" Mr. Lovegood chuckled.

Yet Luna heard Ginny's real answer sliding underneath her tone and she could literally hear a resounding 'no results'. Luna gritted her teeth at the implication of a good show. It was as if the whole House was being cheapened into garnish before her very eyes.

She had had picture books that made the animals in the book come alive in the pages then a miniature version would pop out and prance around the palm of your hand until it melted into magic words and dust. You could tell…it didn't belong in your hand. It was rough around the edges, blurry, straining against the fabric that you were made of, and you would have the slight thrill that perhaps it would become a part.

Her father waved at someone and squeezed within the billowing crowd, becoming one with the mass. She struggled to hear him over the battering banter.

Ginny made to follow him, eying the rest of the inhabitants of this place of threes with scaling eyes. She's making marks on everyone there, Luna thought.

This time Luna did step on Ginny's cloak, seized by a sudden impulse to stop her from getting between her and her father again. She was strangely relieved when she heard the spurting sound of a hitch in progress, the tightening of the fibers as it stretched then became tauntingly taut.

Ginny grabbed at the cloak in surprise, spurting herself and coming up for air as it was... the currents…instinct she had never had to use was sharpening and readied to make a point. The whole thing, even this act tonight, had a purpose she was forging in that fiery head. Forgers forget foibles. Moreover, they won't allow for them.

"Wait right here. I'll get us a table."

Her father had become one with the masses.

And missed a most spectacular sight. Luna wished she could have been a spectator.

When Ginny's cloak caught under her foot, Ginny herself lurched forward.

The book Luna had originally believed to be marked by the Thorn started to tip out of the pocket. Luna reached for it instinctively, after years of being in a home full of books and resting them safely on their nooks. Also it was the point that she hadn't meant for Ginny to drop anything. She had only wished to stop her from her course.

To- To who, Luna thought while glimpsing a gold word. Her fingertip made contact with the cover and it was as rough and scaly as she could have imagined it. Due to her reaction, she got a nice angle on Ginny's face.

A spark, a blink, a wink blinded her. She felt it. It was traveling up her fingertips, blazing a path right to her mind's inner eye that saw it, understood it. It was a thought. The pulse and the frequency meant…it had just…it was similar to when Luna snapped out of her thoughts. This was the same as awaking and clawing at a bad dream. Then it burst. And she saw fingertips being sucked back into darkness. Someone was screaming, in alarm, in surprise, a rise of supine terror…being dragged back into that dark cellar full of cobwebs and dark like light, making patterns in the wisps of ash. It was brutality.

And someone else was coming.

She could see the flickering flames in the cursive-eyed windows, and the pair peered like irises of ire. Silence, except for the memory of the scream, was here as well as instinct. No footprints would be in the ebony snow near this Tower because no thing, even No-Life things, would venture closer. It might not have been fire…no, it was like sparks, thoughts, she thought. Fueled by books, pages throughout the ages because the snow was heavy and rough, somber and piceous pieces. Like lightening-bolts being made to the Head Master on top whom never is seen but heard…known! Lightening bolts themselves are shown.

In the midst of the black snow, Luna thought of a boy who lived after being struck, though his he-, no, hair might not be white…

…yet the Head Master was drawing nearer.

A door was opening and it wasn't Dumbledore's. Steps were creaking across a spindly bridge that was like a giant insect that had been hastily built, thrown together in a whirl of mind and eidolas with no real order, just the nuts and joints of chaos and bat wings.

Something was reaching for her, just brushing her fingertip. If she allowed it to, it would-

Luna let go of the book.

And the roar of the noise came back and the warmth of people's presence invading her limbs. Ginny was gone. In her place, someone stood just out of sight. The expression was solid. The animus climbed above her and looked down from whatever place it had scaled, perhaps with a ladder of ivy but she imagined it was whiter than that.

You see, the eyes said. Do you see now?

Luna thought there was relief there as well. She knew masks grew heavy and harder to remove each time one wore them. She had never liked masks. How can a game be played alone? It couldn't. Games were for fame. Fame fed on any greater than one. So there was an acceptance and an acknowledgment in the new stance Ginny's body presented. It seemed that this forgery of Ginny was taller, straining at some seams on this side of the mirror. No, not a mirror. It was from inside…a self-created reality propelled by magic. Change the lights and some colors refract instead of crack. Magic can ripple the air and do the trick.

One thought kept returning to her…I'm not taking off my hat.

She wouldn't know until later why it had popped up for she was pulled back by a hand on her shoulder.

&&&

"It's a little small, but I think it will fit the three of us. As long as you two don't decide to have sudden growth spurts," Mr. Lovegood added fondly, squeezing into slight space between the table and the chair.

Luna darted in front of Ginny to get to the seat beside her father. The other had put on the Ginny mesh again, and Luna wanted to buffer this presence from her father. Yet the Animus was not completely gone this time. Ginny could have sprouted another head to sit on her shoulder to stare at Luna relentlessly. Although the girl didn't look at her, she was still watching.

Mr. Lovegood had been startled by Luna's sudden seizing of the chair next to him. "So how's your father doing? I knew him way back when," Artemus said jovially.

The Ginny mesh gave a startled look, and fur was sticking through the ends of the fence, Luna thought.

"He's well. He's finally resting, you could say."

"Wonderful. Arthur always was on the go. A good man, if there ever was one. We knew each other in less than pleasant times, so you can either see the best or the worst of people. But Arthur…he always went with his feelings. I hear he's trying to pass a Muggle Protection Act. I can tell you, he's been planning it for half his life. Never had a chance before. Hope the Ministry isn't giving him a right time of it."

"Oh, we can hope. But I'm afraid that the government will stick to their position. Muggles have never been a part of our world, so the Ministry might not see the need to put effort and time to protect them…but the idea is delightful."

Mr. Lovegood smiled sadly.

"Ah, but there was a reason once…if we had had a law like that in the past…Be thankful you two are young. Your father saw some dark times. We all did."

"Was that when you met my father, Mr. Lovegood? He doesn't talk much about that time. I've asked but well, all the stories that I heard are a little hard to swallow."

Mr. Lovegood pulled his drink across the table and sipped it, perhaps thinking of a good way to make it smaller. His eyes were on Luna whose eyes were on Ginny.

He always kept dark topics away from his daughter and he was very protective of her. For her, he had wanted the world to be a place full of light. But, as Ginny Weasley was demonstrating to him, he couldn't keep her safe forever.

He believed most of what he told her. Belief was the ideal for him, the way he had gotten through the Dark Ages of You-Know-Who's reign. With belief, you could surmount anything. Believe all the magical creatures weren't being wiped out by both Muggles and Wizards alike. Believe there was good in everyone. If you stopped believing, you lost half the battle. But even belief…when You-Know-Who was around wasn't always enough.

Clearly Ginny Weasley wasn't afraid to bring out the darker faces of the world to the table with burning curiosity he couldn't quite place. He tried to keep in mind that she was young and didn't yet understand the trials of the world. He supposed he compared every little girl to his daughter. Luna, he realized, didn't dwell in the past unlike this child before him with hungry eyes, drawn to it even.

This child was intelligent. Fiercely so. He could sense it. Not that the girl had said anything remarkable yet. It was in her manner and her eyes. It was practically palpable and he could feel it, radiating from Arthur's little girl. He had turned to see how the girls were getting along, curious and anxious that everything was perfect, and…well, honestly he was a little frightened by the intensity on both of the small faces.

For Luna, it was all eyes and future. She would talk of her imagination and he would listen. Yet there were instances when her thoughts made him pause in awe. There was always truth in Luna. Talking with Lunette was like gazing through a looking-glass.

Perhaps that was why he was so desperate to keep her away from being tainted. His daughter was her own person now, free from his nest. It had taken a simple conversation on a holiday to make him realize that she had to know about the world. He would have to face it.

And was it as very bad as he felt it was? If Ginny was as comprehending and keen as he thought she was, then Ginny's influence can only be beneficial for Luna. Arthur Weasley would have raised his children well in a loving home. No doubt the slightly brazen red-head had sturdy foundation of basic ideals. He was sure of it.

Ginny had tapped her fingers on the table lightly, with the air of someone who knew odds and no evens as she waited. Luna, focused on her eyes, almost missed the rhythm. It was her own beat. The one she had tapped out in the library that night when the deviation appeared.

The girl tilted her head in a very un-feminine manner to smile at her hands, seeming fascinated by her control of the limbs. An instrument of music was all the hands were now, playing a fine tune that was stolen.

She could almost cry. There were two Ginnys. She had been talking to the tomb one the whole time. Something was buried inside of Ginny and had pulled her back. Ginny Weasley had been the one screaming. Yet was Ginny born this way? Luna wondered. Was this inherited? Was this the price of being the Heir of Slytherin?

"I don't know if your father would appreciate me telling you about…those terrible times, Ginny," her father broke in.

"I understand, sir. I was only curious. I've just always heard that forgetting about the past won't make it go away. It's better to know and correct it than let it…"

Luna had several words playing in her head. That tone gave her the material. Fester, rot, she thought. You mean to say 'rot'. But you aren't going to, are you? Because you make words mean whatever you want them to mean.

"…build up. I think I am old enough to hear it and not have sleepless nights. Trust me, my father won't mind."

Mr. Lovegood sighed, looking nervously at the table next to them, in case any ears caught their conversation.

"I met your father in the third year of, well, You-Know-Who's time in power. His followers-…"

"The Death Eaters…" Ginny added.

People who eat Death…Luna had never heard of such a thing. Further she thought of snakes swallowing everything whole and never dying because they grew immune to death while trying to control it. Really, Death Eaters must be running from Death, more than eating it. Death isn't finicky, she believed.

"No, not entirely, there were those who switched sides, traitors, and some rogue Dementors. You-Know-Who hadn't gotten the giants in the region under his control though he had a great many under his command. I'm just thankful he hadn't gained that tribe yet because I think we would have lost ground. Come to think of it, that was the first real battle in the war. Mostly it had been terrorism up till then. From what I hear, He started with the Muggles first, gaining the support of the younger wizards. Even then, You-Know-Who wasn't ever identified. It was like he popped up out of the ground. The Ministry didn't bother with the deaths of the Muggles, which is why I fully support your father's pushing the Muggle Protection Act. If it had been in place then, the Ministry would have had to respond immediately."

"Ah, pity," Ginny said. "The Ministry has always been slow to act. It would better if the Wizard World had had one true leader to motive the community, though of course, with advisors and representatives and such. The war wouldn't have gone on for as long and the conflict would have been resolved. In war, there is no time for hesitation."

To Luna's shock and disappointment, Mr. Lovegood nodded.

"We did have Bartemius Crouch at the time. He was climbing his way up and overriding a lot of the paper-pushing. Even created a council for himself. He was a shoe in for the Minster of Magic after the war was over until…until his son was caught with some remaining Death Eaters torturing an Auror's family. I knew them. And just when we were forgetting too."

"His own son…went to the Dark Lord's side?" Ginny asked with interest. "So it's possible He had influence inside the Ministry?"

"Oh, yes! As sure as I am sitting here. No one will try and prove it; I'm sure the current Minster spent a good half of his term covering up all the evidence. But thankfully, You-Know-Who was slowly losing his hold shortly before little Harry Potter defeated him. The later part of the war the attacks were sporadic and again, just cowards in masks torturing and killing the innocent, even children. I've always been of the opinion that he was losing his grip and slowly going more insane, if that's possible."

Luna felt something decided sepulcher-like in Ginny's face. The daughter of Janus was careful to look at her cup, swirling the contents inside with concentrated and well-practiced, bored Boardman. Luna glanced up to see if there was anything darker in the room, shifting shadows or men in masks, because Janus was a gate-keeper after all, of the ani birds.

"Fighting was almost at a stand-still near the end. Barty was a strong leader and smart too, not the sort that bentover backwards for the Ministry. Shame about his child."

"So there was a lull before Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord," Ginny said in a whisper while keeping her gaze on her mug.

"Yes, You-Know-Who's forces were smaller and Crouch would have had him in due time. He barely had any strategy in warfare but I suppose monsters like that never do. But Crouch didn't have to. The Boy-Who-Lived defeated You-Know-Who and helped save a lot of lives that would have been wasted."

"Oh, I don't know if this Crouch would have had him," the gate-keeper muttered with dream lily of a tone. "I think it is He who would have had Crouch."

"Pardon?" Mr. Lovegood looked confused.

As Ginny had said, another's truth could be someone else's lie. And lay low while Crouch takes his power for the day. Crouch would have taken away the steps in the foundation of the Ministry, leaving it teetering and oscillating wildly. It would fall without his hand. No, not his hand. Any hand.

She could see Crouch now in her mind, framed at a window in the pinnacle of the Ministry. Looking over his now collected and calm Wizarding domain with his shoulders tall…then his son stands behind him, with the watchful look of an ani bird. It made her hands shake. For in the corners, through the doors, and from the cracks of avarice came the rest of his flock.

An explosion of glass raining down on stones like hail…Beware, the sky is falling. Watch out for stray hubris.

"Mr. Crouch's son," Luna said with the calmness an answer brings. "He was the prized piece."

Ginny granted her an appraising nod, with a first, real smile. Her eyes looked pleased.

"And a coup de grace. But who knows?" Ginny added. "The mind of a monster is foreign to us all. But it's the holidays. I guess I shouldn't have brought it up. Let's talk about something lighter. How about the famous Harry Potter? It's my very favorite part of the story."

&&&

Luna flew to the haven of the toilets, excusing herself quickly. Her father and Ginny didn't seem to mind, engrossed in theories of the Boy-Who-Lived.

She was still shaking and took to pacing the small space at a quick pace.

The world she had just been shown had upset her beyond measure. War, teetering towers, and a scream…

The Heir was there and what could she do?

Ginny Weasley was gone and what could she do?

And the interest in You-Know-Who had startled her, derailing her train of thoughts completely. And then Harry Potter…the Heir and Harry Potter, the Heir wanted something from the stricken boy who had been struck by lightening. Who was the Heir?

Who knows? Who. Who knows. I know. I am.

Luna froze, letting her thoughts go.

To-To who. I am Who. The Who in the You-Know-Who.

Luna slid to the floor, using the wall as a wavering support and quite numb. She shook her head in silent disagreement with her thoughts. She found that she was shaking, curled up just like when she was younger and the night had fallen and things were moving beyond the veil.

How could that be possible? Harry Potter had defeated him. So the Heir could be just interested in that part alone.

"That's right. It's a curious thing to be curious about. It's the most fascinating thing in the Wizarding World to survive…"

Death. Death Eaters. Harry Potter accomplished everything they had wanted.

But that's part of the past. The past can not be in the present. If that was the case, then there would be no difference between the two. Except for…it could be in a book. The past is always in a book and can be made the present for when you read it, it comes alive.

Luna cupped her face in her hands.

The book was the key; the diary was the spindly bridge, with bumps along the surface turning into a pattern of a pulse. Could it be a gateway or merely just worthwhile words? Words had power and written word held a bountiful bonus. It's in the arrangement, it's in the numbers of spaces and length, it's the hidden beats, and it's in the magic binding to a word.

So it could be possible that the Heir was…was the Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort.

It doesn't matter who it is, Luna thought. What matters is that Ginny Weasley is in trouble and Harry Potter is in double trouble.

Harry Potter is in danger.

What could she do?

Luna stood up slowly and placed her hands on the cool, blissfully white sink. After splashing her face with cold water, she felt better, more awake.

She wasn't a child anymore. She was a witch, a Ravenclaw witch.

A responsibility had come her way. With knowledge comes responsibility. So she was sure she had both. What she wasn't sure of was fate. How had such odd ends come together without fate?

She hadn't believed in fate's hands. She believed in paths and the obstacles that pop out of the ground. Fate was how you reacted to the obstacle. It was also you too. So she had to have a reaction. Luna knew that she couldn't abandon that reaching hand in the dark, be it fate or a very scared and scarred girl. She would have to reach back because she could imagine feeling that alone without hope. Harry Potter was no exception to this feeling either, and he wore his own scar for everyone to look at and know. Luna couldn't imagine knowing that people knew.

So she would have to help and not with thoughts alone. She would have to give them claws. Her thoughts would have to become wit.

&&&

Thanks to reviewers!

Lady11Occult- Thanks! Yeah, Luna's Quietus was a Thestral. Luna's relationship with Dumbledore might change for the better and probably will. I think that they have a lot in common really.

Petites sorcières- Thank you! Luna herself isn't a Parselmouth. She just recorded the sound of the hissing with a spell. Though I am sure she would love to learn

Hylarn-Thanks! I'm glad you like it.

Pickledishkiller-Thanks for keeping up with my story!

Sabrina-Rosalie-Goodness, you still make me smile with your reviews. It made my day brighter when I read it. Yeah, I see Tom's possible reaction to being bullied as quite different from Luna's. I think he always wanted to prove himself and I don't think he would stand for being ignored or put down. His mind is so brilliant that it is impossible to shunt him aside. I've read tons of versions of Tom Riddle because I can tell you he's the reason I loved the fanon so much. But, even though that, when I read CoS, I formed a pretty firm idea of him. He left an impression and I always made additions about him and how I see him. He instantly became my favorite character besides Luna. And I'm glad you liked my portrait of Luna. She really is never angry as far as I can tell in OotP. It's kind of an innocence that is endearing and charming. Her statement about wit in the fifth book made me think she would be pretty opened minded about perception. She's willing to understand without letting other ideas from external sources interfere. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Cora- Thank you so much! That was a very nice thing to say! I'm never too sure about my writing so that review meant a great deal. I will try to update sooner next time. School kept me tied up for a good while. But I think updates will be a lot faster.

Bandcat- Yeah, I know what you mean. Although most of the Ravenclaws will get better with Luna, I think that for the most part this House is very independent, even among its own members. I imagine Gryffindors and Slytherins as caring about House unity…well, outside the common room.

Slink: Thanks! I'm glad you like my interpretation of Luna. Also thanks for the ship support! I'm going to do my best to pair these two up nicely.

Loise-Thank you! I was worried that my version of Luna's thoughts weren't suitable or well-portrayed but thank you for your kind words about her. Yes, although Luna's very independent, she does want a friend whom she can be close to. I'm also glad you liked Tom's role in the fic, especially under the guise of Ginny.

Mistress Siana- Thank you for reviewing! Tom Riddle has many interesting sides to him. I think he could have been a great teacher if things had been different, as well. Yes, Luna's perception does give some hints here and there. Eliza's horrible, isn't she? I'll try to tone down her own magic further on.

Dust Bunny Assasin- Thank you for your honesty and taking the time to review. I just have my own interpretation of Luna and what I am trying to convey. Also I agree with you about Eliza. Because to me, she's more of a symbol than a person. I hinted she might be kind to most but overall, she loses herself. It's mostly a surprising hatred that sometimes can happen. When someone revolves around someone else, they become very shallow. Really, Eliza was also important to add because I wanted to show not only certain Houses can have undesirable members or behavior patterns


	5. The Challenge

Disclaimer: Anyone you don't recognize belongs to me. Luna, Tom, and the rest of them belong to J.K. Rowling.

Author notes: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks again to Mistress Siana who is an absolutely wonderful beta-reader and helped me so much.

The Challenge

Knowledge could be quite dreadful when no action, no safe ledge, can be found in the truth.

Luna would remember, in her later years, weaving in and out of the tables, past chairs, and the feeling of the floor underneath her feet. She remembered her hair around her face and one eye still covered by her hat.

. Ginny is on the other side, Luna chanted to herself. If she could push, I could pull. It would be better with three of us, but two is enough. Hopefully Who-Knows-Who won't have enough of a foothold to dig in his heels.

She wiped away her cold fear, preferring a hot fear instead, because she didn't like the cold much. Luna remembered Harry Potter, who had a capering knack of emptying a room.

She had wandered closer to see, to stand on her tip-toes with her books drawn close to her, and through the gaps in the mountains and valleys of cloaks, was Harry Potter. In a very tight circle of ruby light, kind of like a mirror, but she realized it was water.

And on the wall, hanging from a torch by its tail, was a cat. A cat Luna thought had liked her, since it was always following her and had once allowed her to pet it. She wondered why no one moved to take down the perverse wall hanging. Cats do not like to hang by their tails. If no one did so, she would do so herself. She was rather stunned at the why everyone seemed stuck, without any action.

Harry Potter made no move to leave the Rubicon circle and seemed just to wait for a Ferryman. Filch was yelling, past the point of no return.

Then Dumbledore made good time and dispersed the mob, who had wanted so much to…to judge, she thought. To take the thing as their design; to make it something it was not. Luna realized she was clenching her hands, and the harsh feeling brought her out of her musings and to the table.

"A combination of charms?" came her father's voice.

"I believe that to be the key to Harry Potter's fascinating story. I've heard that some charms can react unpredictably when…"

Luna took her seat and folded her hands in her lap, in a casual act though her heart was beating in one shrill trill.

"What happened to you, Lunette?"

As she glanced down at her dampened shoulders and cloak, Luna decided once and for all: never do, say, or think any one thing in excess.

The Animus had the most curious expression on Ginny's face. The mouth twitched as if he was trying to restrain a burst of laughter.

"Nothing, Daddy," she answered. "May I have another Butterbeer? I'm very thirsty."

"I can tell," Ginny muttered under her voice.

"Why sure. Do you want another one, Ginny?"

At Ginny's bemused 'No thank you, sir', Mr. Lovegood left the two once more, and the Ginny mesh slipped down once more into an endless well. She wondered if it would ever land. There was no water; no wonder there was so much aspiration.

"Hello," Luna said, quite evenly she thought, and to her, the greeting meant a great deal.

"What did you do, take a bath?" the Who questioned, with an arched eyebrow. "The girls' toilet is highly inappropriate place to do so. I suppose your daddy didn't hand feed you that little tidbit, Lunette."

"That isn't a very nice thing to say," Luna said. "I can feed myself, thank you very much. If you must know, I was getting my wits about me."

Ginny paused, looking at her closely. Luna stared straight back, although looking into Ginny's darkened eyes right now was quite unsettling. In fact, she fought back the urge to flee. It was as if the Heir was trying to peer into her thoughts.

She had read that, among the Manticores, the first one of the two to back away would be the first to die. Her hands were under the table to hide their trembling at the thoughts of flying claws. As long as her earrings didn't swing, Luna believed the Heir might be convinced of her conviction in her wit.

And something pushed in her mind. She felt it, like a hand idly moving her mind around, pushing this way and that. Someone was rummaging on a rampage, _in her mind, _and she began to think she had been indeed seized by a Lurker. And very bad timing at that…

Her mind began to turn, actually, literally turn. She could feel her memories being pushed aside, rearranged, because they started to bumble into each other, while managing not to intertwine even though the memories themselves swirled, interrupting with a remote rudeness. She was on the roof, it was the only way to see the forest and wait for fairies, and she had a net made from her mother's Potion strainers, which were stained with putrid purple, and then she heard the whole world rumble, as if just waking up to stretch or something which had burrowed under ground had emerged to say hello, and the house shook, and then, before she remember moving, her hand was on the door knob, that was warmed with a pulse of its own, and she opened the door to find…Leethingwings, that flew about after hibernating in the walls that had fallen sullenly, coming from the west no doubt, and the floor was not there either, and so we should learn not to trust floors, for floors were a silly idea, like Mores and bogs that sprouted up without warning, someone put them here and there out of a fancy, and it's best to not shell the floor, from turtles, because then they would move but you could go other places, though not in races, for turtles were slow. But she wouldn't mind being a turtle, really, since they had natural umbrellas, but then again, she didn't mind the rain, but she could carry her home with her. What if the land was just on the shell of a giant turtle, with its crevices, and home for all, and then if the land moved in the oceans then everyone could visit…

Suddenly the pillaging hand retreated from her mind. She was back in her proper place, and Luna was slightly stunned. She had been mentally pulled back, as if somebody grabbed a fist full of her hair on her head and yanked.

She paused to note that Ginny looked particularly green and dazed, shutting her eyes as if experiencing a massive headache.

"Did a Lurker get you too?" Luna asked, putting two-and-two together. "You'd best shake your head, just in case they're still lurking. They are very tricky."

"You," Ginny accused, in a most pinpointed manner after recovering from land-sickness. "You, _you _are an Occlumens?"

"Naming calling is uncalled for," Luna retorted. Just because they were attacked didn't mean it was her fault. She thought the Heir would be more immune to Lurkers, seeing as he was the biggest Lurker of all.

"Ah…I know what you're doing," Ginny said, snidely. "It's only fair that, before we continue in this vein, I warn you that you with your limited capacity have no idea who you are dealing with."

"Actually I do," Luna said. "And my acuity is not limited by caps. Let's continue in the artery instead and get to the point."

"You've changed," Ginny said with a tilt of her head and no trace of doubt to be had. "… A person who can leave the room and come back, adapting to the circumstances…that's a Slytherin trait, by the way."

"That way is no way at all." Luna focused on her father's back at the bar, wondering at what point it had become so foreign. It could have belonged to any one else. Trait was an eight, and now she didn't care for her father's lack of traits that made him a ways gone from her.

"I haven't changed, just gained. Do you see learning as changing, leaning a person so far to one point that they become someone else? I suppose so. You change faces so often I wonder how you don't mix them up."

"Don't make assumptions on your own, dear. That is liable to get you into trouble. I know myself quite well and what I am capable of to achieve my goals."

"Your end, you mean. I find that people who don't know themselves are most capable of anything. That's what a Nothing is."

It was as if looking into the eyes of a chimera. Innocent and heartless.

"That was a mistake," Ginny answered tonelessly, and Luna wasn't liable to disagree. She had mistaken something by accident.

"Who said I was talking about you, Ginny?" Luna replied lightly. "You said you knew yourself, after all."

Excess, she scolded herself. Success doesn't have excess.

"It was just a thought," she added.

"Well, may I give you some advice, Luna? As a friend," Ginny said in a dream lily tone again. Her finger traced a circle onto the table. "You might want to keep your thoughts to yourself. I wonder…if you can make such a transition at will, with matching wits with me…why don't you at school? Of course, water has transmutation uses, like blood does, but I highly doubt that's the cause. Let's consider the possibility that it is you that doesn't know yourself."

"I have not changed, Ginny. Who else would know that but me?"

"Isn't that lovely…you don't know the meaning of change. With your mother's untimely death, you—."

"Don't talk about my mother," Luna spoke quickly, feeling the tide receding, replaced by a burning sensation. This isn't right, that rule didn't change. Her mother had no place in this House. Don't talk of her here.

"—forged yourself…your own little world, didn't you? And your father—."

"Be quiet," Luna said in such a voice that Ginny did halt. It wasn't loud or a scream. It was that silent message of meanings and ways she had learnt from him. She didn't forge anything. He was the master of forges, not her.

Or he was trying to make her believe against herself, her own reality in turn towards his.

"What is this…so you can get angry. Wonders never cease." Ginny drank deeply from her mug, eyes curved in an arch.

The Heir was looking at her in that shadowy way again.

"I don't like the feeling," Luna said, calmly as she could muster. "And I'm not mad."

The look turned to one of erring but Luna didn't notice during her contemplation.

For it wasn't anger, really. It was rather indescribable.

Luna understood the idea of possession all too well: The way words could hold you till you fell into them, how sometimes, the very idea could bridge over, seize you with fervor unlike anything you've ever experienced before, only to be replaced with something greater slowly siphoning into your mind, the way the bridge can be crossed.

"Oh, and what are you, exactly?" Ginny leered.

"I'm caused," Luna said, realizing the truth at the same time she spoke. "When something is that wrong and staring me in the face, I am caused."

And he laughed at her in the library, and he laughed now.

"…staring you right…" the Heir chuckled darkly, still ever masterful and ever in control, as if Luna had stepped precisely where he had predicted. She felt like one of those magical puppets, that danced without strings but she was so strung that description wasn't quite accurate. "Rarely do such cases exist, since Causes, of course, are purely circumstantial. You certainly are an unusual one, aren't you?"

"They are not circumstantial! Well, some Causes do go around in circles. What goes around comes around, you know, and you should give some serious thought to that law," she said, quite seriously indeed. She supposed she was trying to impart some hesitation to his control, a snag in his succession.

"You're missing the point. We've discovered something new about you, in a matter of seconds. I wonder what else we can find out, if say, something unfortunate happened. I wonder how you'd respond."

"If I believed in such devices, I would predict that you'll know yourself quite well in the end," Ginny finished with a great satisfaction, the most Luna had heard from Smithy Forger. She thought of how his mark on the world had left it changed, a thumbprint that reconnected the lands into a labyrinth and how everyone had changed. So many people had been left undone.

"We're both lucky," she said, feeling far from her body. "I don't believe in predictions either."

… Luna was starting to see what being the Heir was: to be able to. To step out of what kept you bound.

"Why?" Luna asked.

"You'll have to speak up. I'm afraid I can't hear you from underneath the table."

Luna realized she had sunken completely out of sight and off of her chair. In a turn, she became a rook in a nook but would that be right, when the glass hadn't yet stopped raining for Mr. Crouch?

Ginny peered off the top of the table curiously, plainly taken back or missed a step or took three spaces back. And she thought of her Daily Prophets and she thought that was very fitting, and she giggled at everything falling into place.

And she had made him angry after all. For the girl had gone rigid, with dark eyes, and Luna laughed because of all things to upset the Heir it would, of course, be to sit here on the floor. Luna promptly decided that she would remain right where she was.

She didn't notice the bewildered looks from neighboring sitters (who were sitting on the chairs) who wondered with good reason where the bodiless laughter was coming from.

"What are you…what is…why are you laughing?"

An unfamiliar look of confusion had darted across Ginny's clear features, focusing a more intense look of an utter snag. Her spirits rose, blooming sky high.

"I'm la-laughing at y-you," she choked out, pointing for emphasizes and clutching her sides.

I really tripped you up, Luna thought. You care about yourself…so of course, you'd care!

"Sit up. Get back in your chair"

"Why?" Luna asked again. "Why should you care?"

"I don't care. I just don't speak to those lower than me."

"I don't care to be on your level," she said clearly.

The Heir seemed to gape at her.

Then Ginny straightened up and took to sipping her drink once more, seeming to take no more notice of her.

She sat back in her chair, because she had made her point. As she reemerged from levels, she saw that her father had reemerged from the crowd, holding steaming mug and looking rather curiously at her.

"I'd thought I had lost something, Daddy," she began.

"Her marbles," Ginny said, innocently.

"Yes, I did," Luna answered and bent down to pick up a few she had allowed to fall out of her pocket, with her father watching. "Since you don't have any, Ginny…do you want this one? It's red, and you see the golden sparks inside…it stands for Gryffindor," she finished in a conspiratorial whisper.

And she placed it right on the table, before the Heir and smiled.

"My old House mates made that one for me," Mr. Lovegood said cheerfully. "Or I won it, in a game of Exploding Snap. I can't remember. You are welcome to have it, Ginny."

With a very forced grin, Ginny took the marble, holding the small round, sparking item as though it burned. It emitted a small roar and Ginny promptly dropped it.

Luna started. Her marbles had never behaved that way before. Her father frowned.

"Huh, that's odd. It's not supposed to do that. Is your hand all right?"

"Yes," the darkening girl muttered, gripping her palm. "What spell was activated, sir?"

"I think it was…erm, I believe, thought my memory might be a little foggy…that it started out as an anti-cheating charm. Then the spell was modified for…it's not important. I forget. It was ages ago."

Mr. Lovegood awkwardly reached for the sparking ball but Ginny snatched it up and put it in her pocket, wincing as she did so. Luna and her father stared.

"I still want it. Perhaps I can deactivate the spell," Ginny smiled with that half-moon smile and eyes that were, in Luna's view, filled with lies. "Are you sure you don't recall the charm, Mr. Lovegood?"

"I suppose all I can safely say is that it probably is a deviation of the anti-cheating spell. We perhaps carried it a bit too far, but there is nothing…I wouldn't worry about it."

"Your thoughts. It doesn't like your thoughts, Ginny," Luna said, in a detached manner.

To think, using one's magic against them, running it backwards in their blood, trapping them in their own thoughts and making them live in their dreams. Or had he woven a vermilion nightmare for Ginny.

I dislike him, Luna told herself. She remembered Ginny on the train. Mr. Lovegood looked embarrassed at Luna's declaration.

"Well, that really doesn't…mean anything. Years may have made it a bit off kilter," he said soothingly, not wanting to upset his guest.

"No," Ginny said simply. "I guess my thoughts would disagree with a rudimentary tell all. After all the unpleasantness at school, well, no wonder. It's been such a trying year. My parents were discussing bring me home for my own safety if the Headmaster can't put a stop to the attacks, and something tells me he won't be able to. In a matter of months, Dumbledore will be asked to resign from his position."

Luna froze. Her father gave her a searching look.

"What attacks?" he asked slowly.

"You mean Luna hasn't told you?" Ginny asked, with blooming eyes and a stilted mouth.

Mr. Lovegood looked at his daughter with mild alarm then back to the Heir who was playing with the strings quite well. But she wouldn't let him.

"It started with an attack-"

"On a cat," Luna said, lightly. "I suppose they didn't like cats or were allergic to them. It was a Halloween prank, Daddy, and an abysmal one."

"I'm compelled to disagree with you, as that cat was Petrified and Harry Potter was caught at the scene, red-handed so to speak. And-" Ginny said quickly.

"Harry didn't do it," Luna said swiftly. "He was not red-handed and Dumbledore saw he was innocent and took him out of the frame."

"Wait, wait," Mr. Lovegood held up a hand, telling her to quiet down. "Petrified…How is that possible? It couldn't have been a student. Petrification doesn't occur without an incredible amount of power behind the curse."

"Harry Potter seems to be full of surprises, sir. Think of his history. Think of the power behind what made him so famous, though in theory, it might not have been his power at all. But he is a suspect, and after the last victims, I'd say the Heir of Slytherin is not one to be taken lightly."

"Are you saying that students have been Petrified?" Mr. Lovegood choked out.

"Of course, several, and who knows how many more," Ginny said, with a thick blanket of sorrow in her voice.

Luna felt her foot make contact with Ginny's leg.

"I didn't expect the Headmaster to allow…" Her father looked at Luna quickly. "I think it would be best if you came back home with me tonight. I tell the Headmaster when we get back."

"No," she said. "No, Daddy, I can't leave."

As an afterthought, she added, "Hogwarts is where my friends are. It's my home."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

Then she said, "You don't have to worry about me, Luna. I was planning to visit you this summer after this year is sorted out."

…Someone was knocking, could be and she hung on the feeling of danger. Luna imagined her father opening the door of their home and she would call out too late, far too late, when she had been on the stairs the entire time, waiting.

"Well, there you go," her father smiled, in that nervous way of his.

"No, I don't go," Luna said once more. "Hogwarts is my home. It's as safe as can be expected. It can't be all bad or you wouldn't notice the bad things. It's one person, Daddy, one person who is alone. Mum would have wanted me to stay."

Mr. Lovegood turned ashen-faced.

The Heir himself was rather like a far away hand of an artist who was displeased by his work, finding it not to his liking. Such was the way of not liking attempts, she thought. There was only so much to be done and done well. Fleeting is what this was, yet at the same moment, she felt they had all stepped out of time, with the rest of the tavern flowed around them. Strange, she had never felt like this before.

"We'll talk about this later," her father said, lightly, and she felt eyes flash between them, studying them. It was disconcerting and Luna felt rushed, as if she had traveled a great distance in no time at all. Ginny - Who looked disquieted about something but Luna didn't know what in particular. The whole thing maybe and, she would agree, as she was trying to get back to where she had begun on this outing.

"Yes, we will," she said simply. "I have a gift to give to a friend when I get back, somehow."

"Somehow?" Ginny muttered, looking even stormier and perhaps thinking up foggier ploys. It was almost a pained mutter, with a hint of weariness, and Luna hoped he was getting tired from being here so long, if the bridge was unsown apart at the wings.

"Yes, I have to give a ghost a gift, somehow, don't I? I just don't know how to create a scarf she could wear. How would you go about it?" she asked, innocently. Ginny stared at her, quite emptily indeed.

"A ghost?" Mr. Lovegood asked, smiling a little. "Anyone I know?"

"Moaning Myrtle. I doubt you knew her. She keeps to her stall," Ginny replied in a caricature of one who talks about something most unpleasant. At her father's look, she dabbled in a bit of rare clarity. "Her particular haunting ground is the girl's toilet. I trust you haven't run into her, sir."

"That's not funny. It's not funny at all. Put yourself in her shoes," Luna bolted in, not proud of her father's reaction to Myrtle's state or lack of one.

"I can't, Luna, as she has none. Nor should I have to. Some people put themselves in their positions. Some allow for it," Ginny said casually.

"You didn't like Myrtle. I don't think she had a choice about putting," Luna said, placing preference on the tense. "Strange you spend time in there, now, Ginny. When everything's as dangerous as you say…"

"Oh, I don't. I spend my time elsewhere, rather than with the dead. It's not about liking Myrtle and that's the case with you, I believe. You pity her. You don't like her."

"Are you saying you know how I feel?" Luna asked, curiously, as that could very well be and she wouldn't be terribly shocked considering the nature of the situation. For she was never completely sure about how she felt. She had felt a bit of pity for Myrtle but she had liked her, or thought she did. Her father began to look uneasily between the two. Ginny had folded her arms.

"No, of course not…Just wondering, have you asked her yet, about what it was like? She just babbles on, about herself. Nothing of any importance or interest. Of course, her type would waste the experience. She's a figure of pity, to those so inclined. If it makes you feel better, though, go ahead."

"She's not entirely dead. I can give her a gift, and not tie up anything."

"How…the girl is quite dead. How can you say she isn't? A good hint is that you can see through her, for one thing. If that helps you tell the difference, Luna."

"There's no difference. She just isn't in her body, that's all. She can speak and feel. That's enough, even though she's just bits of fog."

"Fog! So she's transcended into fog," Ginny glared. "And she can be counted among the living, for she's made of fog. Is that what you are saying to me? Well, then why bother with a gift? What use can a natural weather occurrence have for a gift?"

"I meant left over fog from her being, not the rain, Ginny. That would be silly. And she could use a gift. I'm making her a scarf. You might know her old House. Actually, I'm next to positive you do."

Ginny looked startled, stiffening as if Petrified herself.

"…Why not make her a Ravenclaw scarf? Induct her into your own House. I'd say it was fitting, considering your mascot. Maybe it will help her along."

"I would prefer her real House, where she was Sorted by the Hat. She should have her House," Luna said firmly.

"It's slipped my mind."

Mr. Lovegood looked lost, smiling nervously during the whole exchange.

"The snow is picking up nicely, isn't it?" he started in, gripping his mug tightly.

"How would you make a scarf for an incorporeal being? I'm curious," Ginny resumed.

"I was thinking about weaving in a nice, little enchantment like they have on the Hogwarts' ceiling. The weather outside…you did say fog was a natural occurrence. I can add a hue to it."

"That won't work. The idea has no practicality. You need a focal point. A physical, corporeal one, I'm afraid that your friend is lacking. You would need a link, something of hers, and as she died years ago, all her things would have been thrown away."

"Sent to her family, you mean."

"Same thing. Her belongings are stored away somewhere, out of sight and out of mind, as they say. But if you are truly desperate, you can exhume what remains of her with a letter to her family. I'm sure they'd appreciate the gesture."

"What about her loss?" Luna demanded, leaning forward. "I'm sure her family would be happy to help her."

Though Luna had wondered why Myrtle hadn't had more visitors, especially from her old family, so near Christmas.

"Don't you understand? A scarf won't help her. Her family, as it is now, if they still are around, can't or rather, won't remember her. So she is dead. That's what death is."

"No one has to forget," Luna said lightly, while kicking Ginny once more under the safety of limited vision. "It's not a rule."

"You'll be surprised how they do," Ginny said and Luna felt a jab of pain. The Heir had kicked her back and not lightly either. "Isn't that a shame, Mr. Lovegood?"

Her father looked pale.

"It's nice that you visit her, Luna," Ginny continued. "But your Housemates have been worried about you, wondering where you were at nights and why you were missing during the day. I haven't seen you in some classes myself. You might be going a little…overboard in your attempts to make friends?"

"You've skived off classes!" her father cried out, as if the final straw had been placed upon his back. And then he blinked…

She wilted. Her father's misplaced hopes were broken. And the Ginny - Who had the nerve to look surprised. At the sudden silence that had sprouted up after their rhythm of talk. Sprouting kittens indeed….sprouting….

She almost cupped her hands to her mouth. Almost. She could see herself doing so. Perhaps only in her mind. Her father raised his hand for the waitress to come over. Money changed hands. He added in his two knuts, though Luna knew it wasn't his money.

&&&

The Great Hall was too cold.

"It was nice meeting you, sir. I had a good time," Ginny said politely and nodded to Luna. "I'll see you later."

And Luna was sure about he would. He would remember her. She knew this fact as certainly as if it had been the past.

"Luna," her father placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around to face him. He kneeled down, so they were eye-to-eye. Why, oh why, where there so many to's tonight? She didn't care.

"Dear heart," he said gently. "You…haven't enjoyed Hogwarts that much, have you? You can tell me."

"I've had a great time, Daddy," she said, more out of habit. Inhabitance. Ginny was possessed by a Careless Spirit.

She was possessed by Unnamable, Ineffable Habits. She and Ginny would have made good friends.

"You…is this what this school has done? Made you not be able to tell me how you are, how you feel, whether you're happy…"

"I'm sorry, I tried. I did try. I…attempted. "

You are my daughter. I love you. You don't have to pretend for me. This school is just stones. That's all, stones and books. And I would rather tear this place down myself rather than you being forced to…to change yourself. What sort of sham education is Hogwarts teaching now! And since the Headmaster can not protect his own students, a man who I as a parent trust…I'm taking you home."

"Home is where you belong. I belong here," she said. "I won't run. I promised mother."

Mr. Lovegood dropped his hands. "When?" he asked.

"Please, let me stay," she whispered.

Mr. Lovegood stood and straightened her hat.

"If you have trouble, you write to me. I'll be here as soon as I open the letter. And that Weasley girl…" her father scowled. "I thought Arthur would have raised his children better. She turned down right mean, that's what. Luna, I want you to stay away from her. She's of a bad sort, that one."

"I will," Luna said, as that command didn't really apply to the situation. Then she moved away. On her own two feet. Too many two's, you know. "I love you, Daddy."

Luna walked up the staircase into the dark mouth of spurs that lie ahead. Moreover, it was grounded, used fangs that were there, waiting with a fastidious patience. And sure enough, when she reached the top, there Ginny was, leaning against the memorable wall with her hand to her infested heart.

"My, my, what a touching scene," Ginny drawled. "Ad nauseam. You're leaving? May I help you pack?"

"You know I'm not," Luna said and she began walking to her Common Room where nothing common ever occurred even on the holidays with missing drawings and moving pictures. Her mother's picture that he moved. "And I'd rather you stop sneaking and rummaging about my room when I'm not there."

"I had your best interest in mind, you know," Ginny sighed. Luna was confused.

"By hiding my socks?"

Ginny hissed in what sounded like all those thoughts pouring out of her head in an array of arguments, mostly between two persons in a running sink.

"No! By placing the thought of sending you home in your father's mind."

"You didn't place anything in my father's mind!" Luna turned abruptly, her stance stymieing her known foe. "I'm staying here. For my friends."

"What friends?" Ginny asked casually. "Think carefully. Why risk your life for people who wouldn't miss you if, by chance, you disappeared? I would reconsider going home, if I were you."

If he was me, then things would be differently, Luna thought. She knew she wouldn't go home and he knew that as well.

"No, you wouldn't. _You _wouldn't. I'm not sure…about Ginny. I don't think she has a choice to go home. Have you asked her?"

The silence attuned to a caterwaul, and the next thing she knew there were gaping holes in Ginny's face.

She almost screamed. Very nearly. Something pushed her back, freed her, and she turned away, propelled and kept walking. Oh, oh, dear, this was, I am somewhere else right now, Luna thought wildly.

He was keeping up with her fairly well, just always behind her, because somehow, that made it all the worse for the waiting. He was baiting her, daring her to turn around. And she wondered if she should.

"So, if I'm not Ginny, who am I?" Ginny's voice sing-songed in saturated version of flightiness. "I do wonder…dear, dear Cassandra, you're running. You promised your dead mum, remember?"

Luna's feet stopped of their own accord, mind you, and the power of words is a great and terrible thing indeed. Her wrist was wrangled from her side and pulled backward, and Luna had to go backwards to in order to remain in touch with her hand. She was against the wall, hitting a portrait which yelped in indignation, and she was sure a bit of brass rubbed off on her. Her hat fell.

Ginny twirled her wand between her fingers.

"What's your hurry? Let's chat," Ginny said. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Luna remained resiliently silent.

"When I ask you a question, you will answer. It's called polite conversation. If you unable to follow etiquette, well, the conversation will be less than polite. Do you understand?" she ratcheted her eyebrows to a significant notch.

"Yes, certainly," Luna replied. "Your earlier question wasn't a question at all. So I didn't let it have its answer. Because there was none, you see. I said nothing, then. Or rather I implied nothing."

Ginny rubbed her temples, now a temple to some shattered spirit. How empty did one's being need to be, for room for two? It must be crowded.

"You…irrita-," Ginny stopped herself, or rather he closed her voice box. "Who do you think I am? Due to your phrasing of 'Ginny' in your remarks, I can only conclude that you think that I am not Ginny Weasley. So I'm bound by interest to question you, naturally."

"I don't think you're anybody," Luna said. Ginny accepted this gracefully as could be expected until… "You don't really have a body, so how can you be anybody?"

The twirling wand stopped. Professor Lockhart's wouldn't have but that was besides the point. The point of the wand pointing at the indention of her throat.

"Clarify your last remark for me," the calm, woe-less voice spoke.

"It's quite wordless," Luna said. "Artless, if you will."

Ginny chuckled.

"I suppose words alone would be too crude for this magic. Give me a name first then we'll go from there."

"You are…" The wand furthered the indention, she noted, with dire attention. "…a very …Smithy Forger."

A petulant pause then a chuckle. Then full out babbles of laughter, of the most oscillating type, and the wand was removed from its new found home in her neck.

The Ginny-Who covered her mouth to prevent further interruption from further falling trinkets of mirth that Luna had found, was quite rare with the Heir.

Murky, to say the least, she thought. This is getting very murky. It's like I'm in a race, but the pace isn't set yet. I'm liable to run off into a runoff.

"You, you really are just…and I thought, I actually believed," Ginny choked out and then regain a sullen and sudden calm that was too unmissed to cause relief. "You amuse me to no end. Really, we must continue our acquaintance after this year is over. I can only imagine what clever lines you'll have for me then. Now…why would you stay here? I can not fathom your reasons. Or is it merely from a lack of reason?"

"I wouldn't leave my friends in such dire straits," Luna answered.

"How dactylic. Your imaginary friends?"

"Ginny…and Harry."

"Harry Potter? You are a close friend of his? Now this is an unexpected turn of events. I haven't heard _your_ unique title attached at the end of his name. Unlike some. When did this treasured friendship occur?"

"There are different types of friendship, you know. It's not exactly…he needs help."

"Well, yes, he does need help, in the cerebral area. I agree though I don't think you are up to par for that Herculean task. Do you honestly entertain some sort of mania that the Harry Potter, as unremarkable as he is, would ever acknowledge you?"

Ginny's face seemed especially engrained with erratic sneers at this most recent disclosure.

"Don't make assumptions, remember. At the dueling club, he seemed so misjudged and-."

"Spare me the details. I've already had my fill, I assure you. You're a member of his fan club?"

"You're jealous," Luna said, unintentionally out-loud. Ginny's eyes could have fallen to the floor, discarded, as the said eyes widened exponentially, like a bad Potions accident where one misreads one-half as two, and Luna would have felt bad about Ginny's eyes, when the real Ginny woke up without them. She would notice in the morning. How would the Heir get back without eyes though? But the problem at hand was the strange sounds emerging for the vessel at the moment. "You can have a fan club too, I'm sure. Harry's fan club doesn't have a good motto yet. I think the old one was 'When there is a Potter, there is a way'. I don't like it much."

"Don't bet on Harry Potter making the year."

"Lightening never strikes the same place twice," Luna shot back, then paused. "That would make a great motto, wouldn't it?"

But the Heir seemed to be struck for the first time. He looked quite stricken.

"Don't worry, you'll think of a good motto too."

"I have several concerning Potter," the Forger muttered, and Luna was relieved when the voices started to bleed precariously.

Luna wandered closer, but only just. She had found a way to ward him off but only just. She had to be cautious.

"Tired?" she asked hopefully. "I'll help you to Ginny's Common Room, if you'd like."

"You're unbelievable," he muttered a little more cluttered in the syllables.

"I know," she said and grabbed Ginny's shoulders, ready to guide her amiably towards the Common Room. And sneak the book out of Ginny's pocket while she was the generous, gratuitous guide.

Apparently Luna's skin was similar to the defense mechanisms Hanging Harpies, a rare breed of plant. For in this plant, the mere touch could make one have an allergic reaction. Case in point, the Heir of Slytherin had a particularly nasty reaction.

Her hands were knocked aside, she was hissed at, in that emptiest of jars of Unspeakableness, the most blackest of coal snakes, she was sure, and she couldn't soothe it with music of pax. No, no, it was bleak, looking down the end of wand point. Like a journey right into the eye of the matter, if you looked down the wand to the wielder. In her dash, she had left her fear. Fear flees faster. Now it was quite comfortable nestled in her chest.

"I'm wand-less," she said, slowly, waving her hands. "Do we have to go to another floor to get you back?"

A shake of the head and narrowed eyes rowing between the Heir and Ginny…glittering shells.

"There are no stairs to shove you down, if we don't change floors. I'm a first year. I don't know any tricky traps to lead you into to."

"…shove me down the stairs? That would do more harm than good, you realize, considering. You'd like to, wouldn't you?"

"I think it's more of a 'you'd like me to like to'."

"Your theories and your…penchant for speaking your oddities leave too many loose ends. We should finish this," he hissed.

"I agree," Luna exclaimed. "Loose ends tend to trip. Ginny will be back to normal around noon-ish tomorrow?"

Twelve was always the best time for new beginnings and old ends. Her time was met with an expression of discontent.

"Do you need help packing?" Luna enquired, lightly.

"If you weren't so… quixotically you," the Heir began, only to finish. It must be midnight for such speech transgressions. "You've accepted the duel."

Duel? When did finishing something mean a duel? Or what if it was the packing that had set off this hapless match, for packing didn't mean dueling unless you were struggling with the trunk among battling bundles of stuff?

"You'll have to grant me more time, in other words, not 'noon-ish' tomorrow. We will have our duel soon enough to sate your noble aims. "

"To the death?" Luna asked, quite curious.

"Ideally, yes," he answered without a shred of shy mercy. "I'll tell you when I'm ready for our little match."

But Luna had already found a hole in his logic. From what she knew of Wizarding Duels, one only had to answer in a positive way to be bond to fight. She said she would, positively, and she would face him, positively. Yet there was a quiet issue to the setup.

"A duel is a set match between two people."

"Thank you for clearing that up for me," he drawled.

"Aren't you two in one? Ginny shouldn't be in between us during our duel. It's the same thing as me pushing you down the stairs. Ginny would bear the scars, not you."

He seemed to ponder this new angle for a moment then smiled a bit too widely for her liking.

"Ah, you wish to meet me face-to-face. That's very bold of you, and…it's a fitting request, the type I've come to expect from you. Our meeting will be arranged." The Ginny-Who started away from her.

He seemed determined not to accept her offer to take him back to the Gryffindor den and she, in turn, had come to expect this behavior. She was learning.

"I won't tell anyone about you," she called after him. For this duel was just between the two of them. It seemed a slightly shady for her to tell on him now, when she was to duel him.

"No one would believe you if you did."

As Ginny's tattered cloak was tugged around the corner, Luna knew why had he had dubbed her Cassandra and the truth of the name, fitting perfectly in place, was enough to make her shoulders sag.

&&&

She managed to reach her own Common Room undeterred. Once inside, in a womb of woven weather-blue, she thought.

But as of to the duel against that cruel Heir, she felt at ease. It was rather remarkable that knowing made her feel free, out of the borders, into the woods. She was going about her room in the motion of habit, straightening, arranging, humming, and looking out the window every now and then. It was as if she was somewhere else entirely, and while she was in her thoughts, her body remained behind to do what was necessary and not cause undue alarm.

She liked being alone in her room. She liked the full silence because when people came back, the difference would be both wonderful and dreadful.

The Heir shouldn't have control of the time, for their duel. She knew the book was the key, with woeful Weasley's thoughts. So she would take the book, take his time that he clung to…things would look a might right better.

By her window, Luna composed a letter, choosing her words with the utmost care and let her i's not look as threatening as they tended to be. She couldn't control their hats in her letters. But she flourished the parchment while not exaggerating or underplaying any minuscule detail. Tales were for rats, after all. The composition was for Headmaster Dumbledore, informing him of the situation with the youngest Weasley. Luna had to make a few notes in the margins, noting her impressions of the animus spirit and certain traits and flaws he bore. She kept her own theories out of the content. In lime green ink, the only color left as her hours of labor on her notes, she left a P.P.Doubly.P.S message for her father that she was sure Dumbledore would relay.

_Daddy, _

_I enjoyed seeing you at Hogsmeade. I enjoyed our talks. I enjoyed the times when we didn't need to talk to know. I enjoyed searching for secret messages in the windows and tunnels under the floor. I enjoyed when you let me put the final ornament on the Christmas tree, the star my mother and I made. I never stopped looking, and I have found something here at Hogwarts. I have found something wrong and I tried to fix it, like you used to do. I know you would want me to do the right thing. It is because of my choices that I continued. Whatever occurs is of my own making. You've given me everything, and I am putting it to use. I feel like I'm in your shoes now. My collection of treasures and sketches are behind the loose stone under my bed. Please keep looking. I love you. _

_Everlastingly yours, _

_Luna Delphine Lovegood_

Luna forged a plan. She would prefer the duel after the holidays were over. On the day of the duel (or night), she would set Zonko's Chattering Teeth on the letter. Everyone knows that after eight hours, the teeth grow sour. So if she was not back in eight hours, the teeth would chatter and her dorm mates, being nosey about the noise, would discover the letter. On the envelope, she wrote a false date and return address of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, with a side note….Urgent, containing extreme menacing mental illness history of student. Respond post haste.

She was sure Eliza would be sure to get her letter to Dumbledore.

Luna opened the door to her room slightly and placed a jar of Dung-Bombs delicately and deliberately over the sill. If the door was fully opened, she would know, by the sound and smell, no doubt, and so would the perverse perpetrator himself.

When the light turned the night to flight, Luna found the portrait was gone, even though the room was not undone by smells and the jar winked with false notions of safety. In the place where her mother had lain was a small note in elaborate, jagged cursive, with a list of Dark Art books, right in the Restriction Section.

_Thought these might help make the duel more interesting…_jeered the missive.

Luna ripped the parchment right down the middle.

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Thanks to reviewers!

Lady11Occult-Thanks, I was trying to convey the way the possession would have effect and how it could be sensed. Also I've always seen Crouch Jr., among other political Death Eaters like Malfoy as being in a good position to seize control from the inside.

Cora-Thank you again and I'm glad you liked Tom Riddle. I was afraid I might miss his character but that made me feel more positive about his characterization in this story. Also I will try to update sooner than this, my main courses are almost to an end.

Sabrina-Rosalie- Again, I love reading your review. Tom and Luna do have a certain way of making conversations more interesting. Yes, Tom truly is a Slytherin, in every way, I suppose and he is a powerful personality no doubt. I was trying to do him justice and your review was awesome, so thank you! I've always seen Tom as being very subtle but he might just show himself to Dumbledore in some way but only just so. The whole idea of possession and the diary is so well hidden that someone, even like Dumbledore, might not look in that direction at all. He might have noticed Ginny and the similarities if he looked into Ginny's eyes especially. But Tom would be careful and try to avoid as much detection as possible. Really, even if Dumbledore did suspect it, I wonder how he would react. He might have just left the act to Harry. About earlier deaths in Tom's life, I can't be sure, especially now. Luna and Tom are very different but at the same time…well, both are very unconventional thinkers. I hope you liked this chapter as well! Thanks for all you said.

Cheersdahling- Thank you! I would love to, by the way.

serialhugger-Thank you so much! I've been wondering about the style of this story, you know, so I appreciate you comments and that you like my Luna.

delia-Wow, thank you! I hope you enjoyed Luna and Tom in this chapter as well.

Flavagurl- Goodness, thank you! That means a great deal, and I was hoping to make Luna as real as possible. Ginny will be an important character during this year and into the next years, but when the adventure really happens, we might see less of her though enough for her to be involved and impacting on the story. Ginny and Luna will be friends for sure but I don't know if Ginny will know everything that happened during this year. Ultimately, Ginny will have to fight Tom Riddle, not just Luna. And during this time, her memory is unclear. In the next chapter, well, Luna will see Tom face-to-face . There will definitely be a more romantic tone in the sixth year. I hope you liked this chapter and that you update your own wonderful Luna and Ginny story soon. I'm interested to see what happens between Luna and Draco, you know.

serenity's hell-Thank you! I hope you loved this chapter as well.

AnimeJo- Thank you!

luna panthera- Thank you! I was trying to rhyme a little because of Luna's sometimes rhyming in canon and it turned out to stick with me when I write her.

Mistress Siana-You've made my day with your review. I was worried if I wasn't portraying all of Luna's strengths or good in my approach to her, so I honestly appreciate what you said. I noticed that too about Tom and was a little surprised. But that particular job (I'm being vague so I don't spoil anything) is a very powerful position, in terms of molding others. It just seemed natural for him, or how I see him. I wanted Tom to seem like Tom, so thank you for your comments!

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Please review!


	6. Of Kneazles and Heirs

Disclaimer: The characters are property of J

Disclaimer: The characters are property of J.K. Rowling.

Author notes: Another shout out to Mistress Siana for being the best beta ever. Thanks for your time and support with this chapter. You really helped make this one piece together!

Chapter 6

Of Kneazles and Heirs

In her mind, she had lived and died a thousand times by Christmas morning. She did not bother to get out of bed. A door in her mind would open and she would follow, swept in like feather dust from a sneeze, and her mind was quite allergic with dooms and glooms.

_Though…I don't think you've known much fear…_

She was glad her pillow was made of feathers, instead of reeds. Reeds always whispered your secrets. She had seen what he could do with words yet she had plucked the note from its place without consideration. And tore it in two and watched it flutter helplessly down by her toes. Her actions were impulsive and crude. As if he were watching...She had been wrong. If he had placed a curse on the parchment, he would have won. She could have lost her pupils to find them in her marble collection, or in someone else's eyes.

Luna assumed he knew all the books he mentioned, carefully cataloged with consuming perfection with p's and q's and then the infamous A. A is for apples, she mouthed to the curtains around her. An apple a day, and she surely hadn't been following that regime. She preferred pudding to apples. Missing the feast downstairs had not been wise. In times like these, a good, sharp taste in her mouth always made her feel better, always woke her up. After a measured reconsideration, which sidled up next with her shame of touching the parchment, it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't have spoken her suspicion to the Heir. Maybe she should have used the time to reconnoiter. A minus side to the whole ordeal was that she had waited for him this morning, because she assumed Ginny-Who would be at the Christmas feast. It made an odd sort of sense, to eat at a feast of a school one was dooming and have someone else who knew besides you. After an anxious night, she pushed herself into sleep, her mother's old scarf still snuggly cradling her head. Surrendering to sleep was painful. He could always be near. But that was part of growing up. Something would always be near. It was purging, and soon, as if walking a great mile, she made it, breathing in lullabies from her childhood.

All the faces tacked along the walls, pages, and pages, sheets that formed an impressive façade. She would stare up at them, loving them. She grew up with them, you know. She gave them favorite colors, favorite seasons, and favorite pets. You could always tell when they gossiped because they gained a look of pride at knowing things she didn't. She would grow cross with them. But she would always come back, with her stuffed kneazle hanging limply in one hand.

"I don't like them in the house anymore."

"Why? It was your idea. In memoriam, right? They've been there as long as we've been here, at least."

"Who were they?" she asked. The Daily Prophets were like Death Eaters caught between the clicks of a camera.

It was the first memory she had of the constant nagging sensation that the world was in a nutshell. She could not pass through a single door. If she did, the world could end. She had spent the afternoon outside, watching the men in the black cloaks through the windows.

Her father remained divided among them. She imagined taking pictures of them with her eyes. So she wouldn't forget. Instead of keeping a secret, she became a secret. A speck of dust was in her eyelashes, and it became a planet in a system of hazel trees.

Her father was at the table, a cup in his hand. The black cloaks fluttered around him but he didn't pay any mind. In the silence, she knew she was the only one left. She would get up and look, search and scour the earth. Yet she couldn't rise. She remained on the ground while the grass grew over her in a fury of rustling.

It was the first memory she had of the constant nagging sensation that the world was in a nutshell. She could not pass through a single door. If she did, the world could end. She had spent the afternoon outside, watching the men in the black cloaks through the windows. She imagined taking pictures of them with her eyes. A speck of dust was in her eyelashes, and it became a planet in a system of hazel trees. Her father was at the table, a cup in his hand. The black cloaks fluttered around him but he didn't pay any mind. She would get up and look, search and scour the earth. Yet she couldn't rise. She remained on the ground while the grass grew over her in a fury of rustling. Now an opportunity of unparalleled portions had fallen right into her lap. A duel with the Heir of Slytherin. Often she saw people define themselves when they thought no one was the wiser.

People took her things. Luna pitied them, and the realization made her both merciful and merciless. But this experience…She didn't want to be the girl in the glass box, with what she knew about the world around her neck, the bottles had been opened and all she had were a handful of butterbeer caps. Theoretically, she would have been pleased, if this had been a game. If he found her of some use, even as a distraction, why shouldn't she find him of some use? Luna shuddered. This time the simmering was out of excitement.

The slow stream of students went around her like water around a rock, babbling in tour nets. All the Heir could do was hid in Ginny's skull, heart, or wherever he was, exactly. She tried to picture being inside someone else's head. Humid and cramped. Unbearable in her opinion. Luna had had a fancy that it wouldn't hurt to leave a bit of herself behind. She employed the remainder of her holiday with a purpose, and the end results were satisfactory. As change can't be without the breakage factor, she had taken her marbles and had broken them, watching the swirls tumble down in swoops.

Her quilt had been in the family for ages. The thick lines that didn't have a beginning or an end came undone, and the dark dye that made the lady's eyes lost its potency. She cut the spare pieces into the shapes of fish and ducks. Luna had liked the way the swirls felt in her hand, broken dust from teeth of an ancient creature. She liked the way the coils went their own way but ended up hugging her legs, like static. The dusty fabric couldn't stand to be alone, its universe was gone and it couldn't be without another. And sure enough, her fishes and mallards were at first jerky, but like little eyes they got used to the feeling as some warm breath breathed into them. She knew it was a hollow, grassy, cracked, dry breath, not the real deal. They were nice but for her first experiments, they left much to be desired.

The ducks had followed her everywhere, restricting her fingerings to the Common Room, and only if the Common Room was unpopulated; it had made her sad, when she first walked down the stairs, and the little ducks tried to follow, only to bounce haplessly in a tumble, quaking with each impact. Mr. Malfoy bore the worst from the ordeal. Thankfully, Ronald had been spared losing his bill. Mr. Malfoy was the darker one, with silver feathers. She had heard the name in the Dueling Club, in an offhand way, and while it wasn't the snappiest of names for a person, it was dashing for a duck.

Ronald was the stripped blue duck. Ronald. Ronald was the best of names. Sitting in the Great Hall, minding her own business, and then that horned voice had bleated out among the babbling, 'RONALD WEASLEY'. She had dropped her spoon in her potato pudding. It was the most public scolding she had even been graced to see. Her father never yelled like that. Ever. She tried to gauge the red-haired boy's reaction. He's going under, not yet, wait a moment, he's sniffing the winds, scenting out the area, going, going, gone, and the boy was submerged in his seat, a ruddy bubble of sorts. She was glad because at first, she thought it was a case of malicious freckles which eventually transformed the unfortunate soul to one giant freckle. He shouldn't have felt so badly; it had made for a nice change in mood.

Her ducks were rather loud, with their constant quaking, well, after she had reattached dear Mr. Malfoy's bill properly. Her ducks were trading secrets. No one could talk about the weather for that duration of time, absolutely not. She had piped in with some slight quacking, but then they played paper tigers and watched her with button eyes.

Where had they learned to quack? She had not initiated quacking. Waddling, she had showed them, quacking, she had not.

"I apologize for interrupting. It was inconsiderate of me, Mr. Malfoy, Ronald."

They resumed their conversation, in a hushed tone, and Luna was left out completely. They knew not to get too close to the fire either. These mad quackers seemed to have a sense of their environment, going around the table legs and tapping each other's comb bills. She wasn't sure what that business was about. She hazarded a guess at a sophisticated code. This was all very exciting to her, as well as unspeakably specious. The quilt must have had a flavor to it, some deep magic. That's when things went uphill, huffing and puffing.

Luna clapped her hands with an air of a weary wayfarer, content with the privacy of the moment, and Ronald got all funny. Not in a good way. A hissing sound emitted from his bill, spating with some resonance of gaped-teeth, a regular cheese connoisseur, and she noted he was puffing up again. Soon there was a ball of fake feathers expanding, a trusty indicator of combustion, quivering with a righteous suffrage, the vox of Mallards that had to be contained.

"Now, Ronald, there is no need to be cross. It's just a little noise, and a little noise never hurt anyone, unless it's a call of a cockatrice, a banshee…well, this noise won't hurt you. My hands are like clouds with a thunderclap. I have to make you a braver duck," she stated diplomatically, and to show him where the sound had originated from, from his Aunt Luna (she wasn't ready to be a mother), she clapped again.

A snap filled the room, and for one disoriented second, she thought the duck had undergone combustion. Feathers went everywhere like smoke. The duck had become one giant freckle and bounced off the walls. She couldn't keep up with its progress with her eyes. All she heard was the general destruction. Funny, it was like a marble. Panicked, she mimicked the bleating voice.

"Now, Ronald, you stop it this instant. I'm warning you, you're making a mess, and you'll have to clean it up."

The duck was having some sort of argument with itself, chiming in with irate displeasure, and flew in for decisive action.

"Duck, Mr. Malfoy," Luna cried, and covered the more subdued quilted creature with her body. Mr. Malfoy chose this moment to bite her nose, which she assumed he had mistaken for sustenance, and Ronald bounced off the back of her head. Biff, and away he went, knocking over an old vase. It burst on the ground, the pieces running in different directions like white mice. A misdirected bunch dove into the hearth, perhaps, thinking of home where the salamanders were.

"You have to have more sense than that. You're made from a Lovegood quilt," she said stuffily. Mr. Malfoy was very persistent about his food.

Someone was yelling upstairs from the boy's dormitories. "The monster of Slytherin is in our Common Room," is what it sounded like. Luna hoped not.

"Ronald, you're only hurting yourself. I'm going to have to clip your wings, if you don't cease and desist." She took out her wand with one hand and held that suspended duck connected to her face with her other hand.

"Stupefy," Luna said, firmly. The duck became a fiery ball of a tantrum, and she had to flee upstairs with Ronald in hot pursuit. Luna caught the misbehaving mallard in the left over fabric, and threw it ensnared in her trunk. Mr. Malfoy was persuaded to release her when she hung her head out the window. He was not pleased, as he could not fly, and was better behaved afterwards. Yes, there was much to be desired.

* * *

"Oh my," she whispered.

She noted that most of his required reading list consisted of rather unpleasant spells. Intestine twisters and kneecap knockers were in the introductory chapter, after all. She believed she had phantom pangs because Luna suddenly couldn't feel her toes. The pictures would have been lovely, if it wasn't for the expressions. She felt a little guilty when she turned the page. By the time she finished, in wide-eyed wonder, she felt quite guilty at the pit of her stomach, even if she did skip lunch. Luna liked the pictures better. She knew the floor would fall out from under her or else, a mark would appear to show everyone who had read the book today, what loathsome character's grubby paws had soiled the temple of shelve-lined knowledge. And did you know that invisible vulnerability creates an all consuming void that hungers for the unlikely and the untimely? For these forces viciously commandeered Cho Chang to sit down right across from her.

"Hello, Luna. How are you today? Are you working on your assignments?" Cho's eyes flickered to her reading material. Luna garnered control over her voice, and it sounded as if she had a Who of her own.

"Required reading, yes. Very busy, you know, always very busy. Reading." She considered hiding the book, but hiding the book would imply there had been something wrong with her reading it.

"That's...nice. Um, remember to take a break every now and then. It's Professor Snape, isn't it? He assigns so much busy-work. I have a mountain of parchment on my bed, though I don't mind Potions. You'll find it's worth the effort now, or else you'll find yourself behind later on."

This was not an auspicious portent of chance. What a time for Cho to converse with her. Chance, or something sinister. How far did this go? Hogwarts was a labyrinth that never changed, influencing every move they made. What if the Heir wasn't acting alone? What if Cho also had a Who? An intricate network could be right at the school? They will say it started with the children.

"You can't have that much work, Cho."

"I suppose I shouldn't be complaining. Fifth year is more challenging. Penelope says that I should start preparing for my O.W.L.S. Don't tell her I said this, but I've already planned to play Quidditch after I finish school. If that doesn't work out, I'm looking into being a Curse-Breaker. My grandfather was one, and he traveled everywhere. So I want to do well, of course, but there is more to life than being buried in a book all the time."

Luna stared at her.

"Penelope works so hard, haven't you noticed? I'm worried about her. With her prefect duties and school, she has no time to even take a rest. I have noticed that she's awfully close to the Gryffindor prefect, and I think that they're perfect for each other. Maybe that will take her mind off things."

Yes, yes, Penelope and Percy, Weasley again, and in the hallway, he had wanted to avoid them, but was it just a coincidence? And Weasley, what was it about these Weasleys? Harry with a Weasley, the Heir with a Weasley... Ronald could be a Who, which made her mad because her duck was named Ronald and he wouldn't respond to any other name. Were there ranks in this mess? The Heir was the highest, no Lord or Heir, same thing really, with Weasleys running around everywhere, burrowing down in the house of cups. Just because they were no leaks, doesn't mean there isn't a flood. And what of Dumbledore? Didn't he realize that his castle was fully infested?

"So did you have a nice holiday, Luna?"

That is quite enough, Luna thought. Holidays now, is it? "I know what you're doing, and you don't have to, Cho. You really don't. You have a choice. Is this worth it? He's not very nice, you know."

Cho looked nervous. Had Luna gotten through to her?

"Oh, no. I saw you sitting here and I just thought I'd say hello, is all. I know we don't talk often but I wanted to change that. We're in the same house, for Merlin's sake…You think Percy's not nice? Why ever so? He seems sweet enough."

"I don't know Percy Weasley, really. He seems, I suppose, sweet enough."

"Then who's not nice? Is someone bothering you, Luna?"

Hard to hold up to this scrutiny. She was tired, and the sun shining through the windows was hot.

"I thought you knew who, but he's a nobody right now. I'm fine, really."

"Oh. All right."

Yet Luna felt it was not all right. It was as if being alone in a crowded room, but just realizing the room was crowded. Someone else lived where Cho lived; her real life was caught in the net of Morpheus, and you had to try and piece them together. Luna had the creatures she chased and the worlds she followed. And now, she had company. Ginny was near the border of the dusk, playing with sand castles, and in a blinding yellow dress. She never saw the Heir. She would turn and just miss him. An odd roommate.

"What do you think about this Chamber of Secrets business?" Luna asked blurted out. Well, she might as well check to see if the Heir was real to Cho, too, because what a discovery that would be. Ginny could have been playing a joke, she could have. Or on this side, was the Heir non-existent? For Cho talked about O.W.L.S and boys, not Heirs and monsters.

"I…"

…don't know what you're talking about…

"I think it's terrible. I know that's a pitiful way to say it. It's unbelievable. Describing it further would make it more…I don't know, actually happening. My mum wanted me to stay home. I almost didn't come back, but then I thought about my friends who would be here. So I wanted to be here too. This Heir would win if I ran away."

"You don't think its Harry attacking his fellow students?" Luna inquired.

"Oh, of course not. That's rubbish."

Luna relaxed and smiled at Cho, secretly thanking her. "I agree, Cho. After all, it's just Harry."

Cho frowned. "What do you mean by that? I hate it when people undermine what happened to Harry. Like now, it's convenient to forget he is the Boy-Who-Lived, as if nothing happened to his parents. I don't understand why people can't be just a little more sympathetic towards him."

"That's not fair at all, you know. The Boy-Who-Lived because of one moment he might not even recall…I do try to remember when I was born, but that's hard. No matter what he does, his name has already been known. I would think he's been noticed-out."

"Yes, yes…I'm sorry I snapped at you. It seemed like you were shunting him aside, and that would be just as terrible. I've heard the things they say about him. He is just another person but one who had the entire world crash down upon him. Everyone says they care but really don't."

"If the world was going to fall, it had to happen to someone. I'd prefer it was Harry who didn't crumble. He's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he's not crushed quite yet. We would feel that. The world's a big place. Even though he has been burdened, he should be able to take a rest. Would you trade places with him?" Luna burned with curiosity. Cho could be her mirror.

"That's…you," Cho stuttered out. Luna waited with baited breath. "How could you ask such a thing? I shouldn't have to-."

Luna was disappointed. She brushed it away and turned elsewhere. Madam Pince had a Zobber nestling in her hair, in the clever guise of a bun, because Zobbers were cold and need a cloak and like scalps. Would she notice? "All right, then. It's good to know just Harry who's not a very capable flyer or…"

"He's a wonderful Quidditch player," Cho said fiercely.

"I didn't know falling off your broom was wonderful. I suppose it could be. Depends on where you land, really."

"You don't know what you're talking about. It was obvious that the Bludger had been tampered with. Honestly."

"Bludgers attack the players, to make them stop flying."

"Yes, I know that."

"How was that one any different then? The pursuit was a highly dedicated case of bludgeoning. Now, if Harry had been thoroughly skilled flyer, he would not have fallen from his broom."

"He caught that Snitch. He won the game."

"He did manage to fall on the Snitch. Last year, I heard he mistook the Snitch for a Glody Gobstopper and tried to swallow it. Those are very bad for your teeth. You know what happens when your teeth go bad? There's a high chance of mind rot, which is what the candy makers want. You haven't been eating a lot of sweets, have you?"

"Are you making fun of me? Look, I came over, because, because I felt bad for you. Now, I get it. If you didn't want me to sit here, you could have said so," Cho said quickly.

She stood up, slapping her hands on the table. Luna's bag tilted over, bulging, much like a person who had eaten far too much pudding.

"…What on earth? It sounds like…" Cho paled.

"Oh dear, I think it's the ducks. They sound like they're planning an escape."

"Are you out of your mind?" Cho seized the strap of Luna's bag, and Luna quickly held on to the other end.

"That's mine, yours is right there."

"You stuffed those poor animals in a bag with hardly any air! That's cruel!"

"I haven't tested if they can exist with air yet. They still twitch a little, and the sound hurts their ears. If they have ears at all, and I have to see if they have any grey matter between them. Maybe a reductor charm…"

Cho gasped and pulled the bag harder. It slipped out of Luna's grasp. Madam Pince was clicking over, swooping forward like a vulture in high heels.

"You girls! Be quiet!" A plain book swiped at Luna's ear and left a nasty paper cut. Cho turned and fled, clutching Luna's bag with motherly instinct. Luna wondered whether or not to pursue Cho. She had homework due, and the ducks wouldn't understand, or be forgiving about a case of sticky fingers. Rounding the corner, she skidded to a halt. Cho had opened the bag, and was peering inside, her eyes growing as large as filled tea cups.

"They're quite friendly, you can—."

Luna jumped a foot in the air as Cho let out a deafening scream. The older girl heaved her old, second hand bag across the hallway. It split against the stone, busting at the seams like dandruff. Cho disappeared, her cloak chasing after her, clinging onto her shoulders for dear life. The ducks lay in a pile. What was left of them. The magic left them. Little parts of the quilt were hooked on the torches were starting to burn.

She stood, transfixed, watching the slow exorcism of magic that tried to mimic life.

* * *

Professor Snape left her alone, for most of the lesson. He seemed adverse to her presence, only walking by with a slight curl of his lip as if he had smelled something putrid. Luna wondered how he could smell anything due to nose hair surface area.

Her own nostrils burned. Her pea green potion stank of daisies, and she realized she was lightheaded with anxiety. Luna waited until the class flooded out into the hallways. There was a strange feeling of not being any more real than the sewed bits of quilt squares, needled together, specifically in the tips of her fingers. Professor Snape had taken great liberties in selecting a book from the yew shelves. He would run a finger down one, as if the texture made an impression on him. She had never seen anyone savor touch so methodically, keeping distance from the sensation. It gave the sense of a wandering blind person, with lotuses for eyes and black beetles in the middle instead of jewels. Alone in the room with him suddenly wasn't comforting. Luna's body again consumed a heaviness she could not quite shake. She watched him settle into his chair, with his book, and wondered whether or not to leave quietly.

"Do I really have to teach you how to open a door, Lovegood?" he asked coldly, not lifting his head.

"No, sir. If it's not charmed. Have you had to teach someone how to before? It's the opposable thumbs."

The Professor tensed and his thin mouth was even sourer looking than before. He had an aura of a cod fish. "Then show me you can and leave."

"May I ask you a question?"

"…You may about potions, or your pitiful performance in this class. Anything else, ask your Head of House…or Professor McGonagall. Do you know where her office is, on the third floor, near the Transfiguration room? In fact, she should be available now."

"It's…about potions."

"Then let's hear it, quickly."

"What sort of potion would be handy in a duel?"

"Only two. A slow acting poison, administered to one's opponent before hand, and a Felix Felicis potion. The first is illegal under Ministry standards, and the second is far above your non-existent abilities."

"Oh, that'slovelywhatelsewouldyousuggest?" she asked, as hurriedly and as casually as possible.

He slowly closed the book and gave her a calculating look. "Is it a member from my house who challenged you?"

"Yes."

"Ah. It would have been better if it were your own house or one of McGonagall's precious Gryffindors. This behavior does not suit Slytherin." Luna nodded and he stood up, placing the tome down with care.

"One of mine would not have bothered with you. It must be a joke. Who is it? I suppose you want me to speak with them for you," he added, with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"I'd really rather you didn't. I don't see how you could talk to him, anyway, he doesn't listen and then would want to duel with you for making him listen, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt. I do want some advice. You were at the Dueling Club."

"As was Professor Lockhart, your proper Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. By all means, this is his area of expertise. I also recall that your Head of House happens to be a dueling champion. I fail to see any reason for wasting my time." He made to dismiss her, and her mind raced.

"You're a Slytherin. You know how a Slytherin mind works," she blurted out. Luna surprised herself, for this reason never occurred to her before. She hadn't thought about why, really. "…I don't think I do, or will," she finished, quietly, giving an admission of something she would never be able to understand. Professor Snape sneered.

"Truer words never spoken." He studied her. His impatience appeared to have passed. "You must use your…way of thinking to your advantage. I assure you, your opponent, regardless of the house or background, will not understand you either. Are they older?"

"I would certainly hope so."

"…Then they will use more complex spells as a given. If they are having a joke out of boredom, as I suspect they are, they will make a point of it to toy with you. Some of those spells that come to mind will take more time to cast. You can use simple spells to be more effective and gain the upper hand easily, especially if they are in a moment of distraction. Timing is everything." He allowed himself to smile, or it could have been a grimace. "Then there is the environment. A good duelist can use his surroundings to finish off his opponent. Any object and a Summoning charm is a useful combination. Occasionally, if you put the emotion behind the words, a simple combination of basic spells will be more than enough. And we are done here."

Professor Snape turned his back on her.

"Thank you, sir," Luna said, unsure of what to do. "You made me feel better. Not so…you know." She left quickly and didn't see the strange, gaunt expression on his face.

She had a nagging need to be at that right place, and for him not to thinking she was avoiding him. The small act of waiting was enough to drive her up the wall. Luna would awake up to the sound of her fingers tapping, drumming with no other form of release. Nevertheless, she waited in the library.

Nothing was really finished in a library. This school was a clock, tightly wound up and grinding away. No one seemed to mind, because when a path is right before you, you don't think about it. These were all figures, waxed and shiny, with little drummer hats, like the clock at home. The clock would stick its tongue out, and the little drummers would come out in cloaks (Cloaks! Had they once been a small village of faeries, and the wizards overran them and made the wear dresses?) and have a mallet (good thing no one thought of a mallet, though there was plenty of mal let), and ding the little bell, being the other's head. Who made the clock, and why was she here? Would the gears rust and would they all be trapped, frozen with unfinished business? Surely not, oil wasn't that rare, surely someone good soul would notice. Oh what if it was sleep? If one stayed up all night, would they catch sight of the clock maker? What if a trap was set?

The light from the windows alerted her to the fact that Ginny Weasley had been sitting, diligently with a scroll, in the middle (wide, open spaces); in other words, hunter's words, bait. Curiously, the book was half way in view, in a slapdash manner, poking out from the top of Ginny's undone bag. The girl hovered over the open scroll as if her life depended on it. Oh dear, she needed to be wound up. Insert the key in the small of her back, and she would rise up in jerky movements with the twist of a hand. The signs of neglect were starting to set in.

She could literally hear his voice in her hand. Come and get me, if you can.

Luna dug in her pocket, ignoring the fish, and excavating a piece of string she had unraveled out of boredom. She had also been chewing gum that had long lost its flavor, despite being every lasting. Luna placed the gum on the end of the string. She wandered around the library, looking everywhere but at Ginny. Luna ran into a fifth year Slytherin when she had looked at the ceiling where Ginny definitely was not. Eventually, she would get to the middle. Madam Pince had fixed her eyes on Luna, sensing her plan, perhaps.

Feeling pushed, Luna crossed Ginny's table and threw the spare piece of grey gum in what she hoped was the direction of the book. Unwinding the string as she went, Luna waited tensely for a girlish cry of a person with gum in their hair. It was a distinctive cry, and to her relief, it never belted out, alerting Pince to her plan. If Pince could not catch her red-handed, then Luna wouldn't spew all her chances to obtain the book to the wind. At this fast of pace, like diving up on a broom straight to the moon, spewing would be messy. She reached the corner seat without detection. Luna tugged on the line, and watched as the book tilted and slid down the side, eager to be free.

* * *

She ran with the book in her hands, humming the school song as she went. The book would have some clue, if it wasn't a portal or gateway. A sentence, a lodged complaint, for surely, Ginny had a lot to complain about. Goodness, it was as if her two lives had merged, one tidy and one a test of the ages. She opened the cabinet and slipped inside, keeping the door open a smidgeon for visibility. It seemed so contained, this little book, but inside, was a storm. Luna traced the name of the black cover, memorizing the delicate pattern and the sharpness of the T and the loops in the R, a touch of Moira for her.

…Tom Marvolo Riddle…

Id, led, and a Mar. Volo for a happy wish. Luna paused. No, not a wish, a want. Put in a mare, wanting the sea, says he.

"Well, you can't have it, Tom," she muttered. "We have to share the sea occasionally."

She opened the book and expected to find a whole new world. All she found were blank pages.

"This just isn't on."

Was this a joke? Can't even spare a leg of an L? A face print when you're bored and doze because the boredom's kind of like a void and you sink into it because it's comfortable at first. Then you realize you're knee-deep. Luna looked down the spine and ran her wand down it. The code did not crack. The empty space was bothering her so she covered the empty pages with whatever image made itself at home, in her rusty manner.

_Hello, Luna._

She dropped her quill. Oh, zounds. He was inside the book. It wasn't a key, transfigured, or portal petals. The Old Tree words on the leaves could be imprinted into the parchment, it used to be, maybe a vision serpent, she had heard of once that lived nearby.

_You took longer than I expected. Were you afraid? Are you still?_

'Oh, there you are. I am a little afraid but in a good way. Shall I come in or will you be joining me here? It's no trouble, either way. I'm in a cupboard, so there isn't much room. I don't mind though.'

She was all warm inside because this singular communication. This proved everything. That even the most fantastic of legends are real and exist in every guise known to man. The truth was right under your nose.

_Ah, I see. As potentially harrowing an ordeal as that sounds, I'll have to pass on the cupboard and insist you join me. If it's no trouble. _

The square under the date widened in a sudden display of welcome and Luna, for one last second, wondered if she should turn back. She could pretend it had all been frenzy after leaving the plain between dreaming and waking. She felt a strange pull and it was done. As she fell, Luna was satisfied at the finality. No going back. The sense of no control made her near sick, but she endured until her feet made contact with the ground. The tempest of butterflies in her stomach was in a fury, and it was like missing a step down a flight of stairs and envisioning the fall in your mind before it happened.

She was standing in the corridors near the dungeons, and it was cold. There had been people here, or it had the smell of people, of boots, old parchment, over-worn cloaks, and pumpkin bubble gum. In her place, a thousand had walked, and their ghosts were here, unseen and unheard. It was the detail that drew her eyes. The sheer detail of this illusion because this surely could not be the real Hogwarts underneath. No, even the flaws were firmly in place, memorized and cherished. She felt a touch of innocence about the place. It was like seeing out of someone else's eyes. There were millions of little spiders knitting this place, darting about with beads of stone and jasper. This was the place between truth and lies. Quintessence smothered both in their cradle while the world welcomed both with open arms. So she had to trust herself in this primeval Hogwarts. She followed the way of the corridors, but she instinctively knew if she went any other way, she would end up in this corridor once more. The dungeons were open as she knew they would be.

And down she went, into the portrait that wasn't usually open, and smeared in cleanliness that was foreign and odd. She followed her instincts and the little spiders that crawled everywhere, and she found what could only be the Slytherin Common Room.

Black couches were at the base of the room, and a vaguely amber-grey fire burned in the hearth. It was the kind of room that set off a rich, thick aura, unlike the Ravenclaw Common Room which was more open, breathable. You would never get to know this room, even if you were to remain in it for centuries. Well, unless you connected with it, and she did not. She was a stranger and it let her know, trying to get her out of its system. In the spirit of being the invader, Luna set about the lay of the land, opening the drawers in the juniper desk. She spotted designs in the walls, as if the marks were a sharp yet pleasing language. There was murky water outside the windows, ghosts of fish in a repetitive drill drifted by.

A green sculpture caught her eye. She found that it was a serpent's egg. It pulsed in her hand, making itself known to her, and she held it up to the firelight. Yes, there was a little snake in the jasper, glass-like shell.

He was in the room, and it gave a start to her heart. Born out of the corner of her eye, and there he was in the doorway. He was the presence after all. At first look, she could tell that he was one of those people. You know, one of those people who could talk with their bodies, tell you things that they can deny and you could never prove. Possibly make you believe them no matter their words or actions. There were those people but he was one of only ones she had seen. Right now, there was a chaotic order. An old power. He didn't belong in this self-imposed, primeval world. Nor did he belong in hers. He was one of those people you would see without looking, and they would see you first.

"You wound me, my dear." She jumped at the sound of his voice, his real voice that embodied this room perfectly. "Why such a cold reception? I'd thought I'd merit at least a hello."

He seemed not to really care that much, judging by his aloofness. He was playing with the emotions because, Luna believed, he was as amused by them as he was by her. Luna could tell he was a great collector already. Of emotions, words, and people…

Luna had to get a closer look at such a person.

She wandered closer and stopped a few inches away, taking in his appearance piece by piece. She looked at his shoes, which she didn't see the point of wearing since he was in his own world but no matter, and he was much taller than she. She noticed his hands. They were pale, almost delicate if there hadn't been that judgmental, dangerous look. To make sure he was a real entity and not some figment of this serpent's den, she reached out to touch his left hand, purely for proof, mind you. Just to see what he would feel like, because this was all very unbelievable, and she suddenly had to make sure this was real. His hand fluttered out of her reach and she was prepared to still make sure, when his sudden movement brought her attention to his face. She had planned to save that for last.

Most would notice his eyes. She noticed his mouth. She reasoned that was the part of his face she saw first, so of course. Of course. Really. Now. She would have recognized that mouth anyway, but when Ginny-Who was speaking, it wasn't the same, because even though she could form the words the same, it just wasn't, and suddenly she thought he threw out all the air and was craftily planning on smothering her, because she was feeling little darts everywhere. Yes, there was Wrackspurts in here. This book was loaded with them, how deviously clever. Accepting her doom, she allowed herself to look him in the eyes. He was old in them, and she was reminded of a stark petrified forest with masks in red and black hanging from the trees, a testament to every expression available. She could see herself there, too, and that was what he wanted, a cognizance of recognition.

An idea that he owed her this moment appealed to her, and Luna deserved a good look. No matter that she now accepted that she was distinctly kin to a puffball. The very worst was that she could detect every hair on her head, trying to strike out on their own, failing and worming down in her face. His movements were swift, and in an instant, he had placed his hand on her forehead.

"You're a boy," she muttered. He wasn't supposed to be young, based on basic math. That pesky time. Where does it go in here? Maybe she could catch some.

"Last time I checked. Disappointed?"

Luna decided his voice was fitting to his body, one that made each word hatch out of refinement. It was a voice you could listen to forever. "I didn't expect you to be a boy after you've been in a girl's body. I was leaning towards a dark daemon, with residue of the Heir. But, since you're in a book, there was the possibility of a repressed djinn who thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. Then there's wandering spirit of You-Know-Who, but-."

"Out of the mouth of babes."

"Was I right?" Luna asked, bewildered.

"Only by accident. After running every possible folly, you were bound to guess right."

"No, I thought that you might be You-Know-Who. I saved the best guess for last. I reasoned it out, you see. It's rather obvious. Too obvious so then I thought not," she explained, unaware that she was getting closer to him again. She was very focused on making him understand her reasoning. "But you are You-Know-Who, and I was right. I do like being right. You know, you're younger than I would have imagined. You must have been taking care of yourself since you fled and went into hiding. You ran to your books, then, and fell in. I've heard of that happening. That's how they get you. The Ministry. My dad says that the Minister regulates the dangerous people, and people who read a certain number of books are marked down on a list that goes on for half the world. I'd expect you to have read a great deal and you got caught in the end. That's why there's screaming books in the library, and they are properly cataloged, but you got misplaced. Angered beyond repair, you used Ginny to get revenge for the injustice, right?"

She must have been about to collide with him for he placed his hands on her shoulders. Luna was glad that he did, indeed, feel real though she wondered if she had just granted his hands warmth. She did wonder how they ended up half way around the fishbowl room.

"You grant the Ministry far too much intelligence. I like the theory, though. Imagine a collection of shackled spines on a shelf. Practical, thus out of reach for the motley standards of the law."

"Oh…" Couldn't count on being right twice in a row… "Did you make this place yourself?" This made her ducks look pitiful by a molting comparison. All of this presented a paradigm of possibilities. All in all, she was suddenly very small in comparison herself.

"Yes, with my very hands. Among other things. I won't deny that there were a few short lived contributions, for source materials."

"Your friends helped you?" Luna was strangely warmed by the thought.

"They were surprised by their generosity."

"How wonderful. That makes this book all the better."

"Doesn't it, though…" He hadn't removed his hands quite yet and she smiled at him.

"Is it a time vessel? A form of astral projection? A crossing point of mental splicing? How did you fit all your vital parts like your heart in a book? Is it floating out there?" She pointed to the windows, referring to the dark shapes in the water. "That's rather unsanitary, and what about your brain? I hope you didn't splice your brain, a mind is a terrible thing to lose. Aren't there squid in the lake? They'd be spraying ink everywhere I imagine, oh, of course, that is where you get your ink supply."

He appeared to be fighting to hold back a confession of sorts, since he was shaking. "Are you always so…I would say chimerical, but there is a certain reason behind all of…that, if one squints." He studied her as if she was a fascinating subject in a bell jar.

"And where are my manners?" A strange glimmer of a joke appeared in his eyes. Luna was of the opinion it would be the epitome of rudeness to ask a guest to go look for civilities on a scavenger hunt, and stoutly planned to refuse the offer.

"Here, take a seat." Luna was guided towards a loose footstool near the un-saintly fire, a withering mass of madness. She accepted the gesture, while growing more afraid by his niceties. She would have preferred an immediate duel to the death. This, however, was unfathomable. He took the chair after a prolonged pause, treating the toothy cushion like a throne. He was catching in moments as well. Luna sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap.

"…It is a vessel of sorts. It's not a…" He paused again, seeming to savor his next words. "Prison. A very good guess on your part but wrong in the concept. The heart, I replace a source of energy. My mind, my very memory. Your theories are much too mundane. I suppose you attach equal importance of sight to eyes, or magic to wand waving."

"Not really…I suspected you'd be organized about it, a heart here, a brain there. There are certain places for them in the body, and they don't always get along in the same space. My mother did say you couldn't die because you were heartless. Is that why you replaced it?"

His hands clenched. His face remained blissfully at ease. His eyes were a stage. "Your mother…and what did she do, your sainted mother?"

"She experimented on the crux of spells and objects. She liked making up new spells. One went rather badly one day."

"She worked for the Ministry?"

"Sometimes for the Department of Mysteries. My father was an Auror. He worked for the Ministry all the time, you see. Mother didn't all the time. She said it smelled awful. "

He looked confused for a moment then shook his head, a ghost of a smile painted on his face. "You mean the Ministy stuck her as foul. Yet she married into it, though your charming father. She had a connection, and your father certainly doesn't keep his mouth shut. Heartless, eh...What objects did she study?"

"Old objects," Luna said, finding it hard to keep silent about her mother. She hadn't spoken of her for months. In her house, it was a story of another family. She was happy to talk. "I used to play in her work room a lot, in the cellar. Daddy would be a work. She used to take me with her, because people brought their objects away from our home, they liked meeting in loud places. She let me find the portkeys for us to leave. Then she kept most of them in the cellar, and it didn't smell bad."

"Your father had no idea, did he? Think hard, what did those people want done with those objects?

Could you ever see their faces?"

"No, never. They had on heavy cloaks and I couldn't see them. To be fair, they never could see me either. They always wanted the objects fixed. One had a treasure box that burned his hand every time he tried to open it…well, I think it was a he, as he was a rather big fellow. He wanted the magic departed, he said, just like his grandfather. He was scared of what was inside, I remember, like it was hope or the like." Luna shivered a little. She was speaking of sacred things now.

Luna was there again, too, smelling the smoke from the strange, burnt red candles and the scents that was reminiscent of a holly branch. Everyone was in cloaks. Her mother's cloak was rainy silver. Her fingers would always drum the table impatiently, a heavy sound with her heavy rings, and Luna would be under the table, by her feet, treating her mother's feet like a throne.

"Is your name Tom?" Luna asked, quickly. He had been watching her through narrow eyes, as though fascinated. He gave a start, well, his hands twitched, and that was how you could tell.. "I like Tom better than You-Know-What."

On second thought, after she had asked, it was a silly question. Lord was more of a title than a name. Luna decided she needed some humanity in her opponent.

"I chose the name, Lord Voldemort, for my new beginning." He paused when she flinched, and seemed to lose his earlier tension. "I had it in mind before I came to Hogwarts. It was always there, you see, and I knew it. A fragmented sentence in a book, one word, and it was invoked. A true moment amongst mundane." There from the beginning, Luna pondered, and it slipped snugly into her own nature.

"Your name. You took the letters from your birth name and created a new one. That's clever."

The name on the cover of this book just begged to be tampered with, and in a very loud, whiny voice. He smiled, one of the rarer breeds than his others in the back stables. This smile was self-indulgent and rather prancy, and one she would get to know quite well.

"Nothing is clever if it is born out of necessity. And it was necessary. It was a self-defeating acceptance, to have such a common name."

"Really? You're the first Tom I've met."

"Of course," he muttered darkly. "Have you heard Galgist's theory on the subject?"

"On your name, your other name? It couldn't have been in a book, your name wouldn't be in writing; no one could read it. And I wouldn't have heard it either."

"Not just on my name, your name as well, Luna. Spells gain their power from thought and will but also through pronunciation. Even in you say a spell in your head, you have to feel the pattern, run it through to where it's as real as you can make it. Names are similar. The way they are tinged, the way they sound of the tongue, the lips... can impart any name you desire upon your listener."

"Oh, it's like a game. Your first name makes me think of the sea. With your second one, my tongue feels like twisting off, and makes me think of a head cold. What image does my name give then?"

Tom seemed about to interrupt, unhappy with her interpretation, then stopped. "You have to ask? Well…You know, the first time I saw your name I wonder what sort of person would have to carry that name, and if dear Ms. Weasley wasn't indulging in theatrics for my pleasure. I have to say, Luna Lovegood left much to the imagination, and your whole description was…colorful. Then I saw you."

She waited. "It fits you perfectly."

"And the image?" she pressed on.

"Beyond words."

"No, no. What did you imagine?"

"I find myself unable to express it in its entirety. I promise you, it's one I won't forget."

"Oh. All right. Some people only know a limited amount of words."

He seemed annoyed, and the black cat smile was out. "A bird. I thought of an odd, little bird, occasionally flying into windows with the misguided hope that its own reflection was another bird."

"That makes my head hurt, Tom."

"The feeling's mutual." He sighed.

"A bird is nice, just not the last, painful bit. Really, that must come from the good part, or maybe the love part."

"That's usually the case…My little scribe missed that part about you, unsurprisingly." Luna's brow furrowed. "Ah, I see you've found my pet." Tom motioned to the sculpture still clutched tightly in her palm. Unsure, she studied it.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you alive or are you dead?"

"I have never known death. A memory can't die. It always leaves its traces somewhere."

"But can you…can you react to the present if you are only living in the past? A memory doesn't have a brain, does it?"

He ran his fingers along his chair in a pleased, cat-like manner. "How tactless of you, to imply that your host has no brains."

The sculpture began to stir, as if hatching. Her breath caught heavily in her chest as the tail of the serpent wrapped itself around her wrist. "I'll let that impertinence slide, purely for the sake of your delightful observation. You have a point, you know. I've heard scarce few, as of late."

"Do you have a pulse? If you are not dead, not a memory…if you are alive," she concluded, just like this sculpture, she thought, and she reached out tentatively for his wrist. The grip of the serpent's coils tightened.

"Try your own wrist," he said, reclining back in the chair lazily. Then…the sculpture hatched into a serpent, straight out of someone's head and fully armed.

"Don't be alarmed. He won't bite unless I tell him to." Tom waited patiently, like a composer waiting for his applause, for a stifled cry, or a desperate plea.

"He's sweet. What's his name?" The serpent took to her, perhaps because he was still a hatchling and unfamiliar with its master's venom.

"He doesn't have a name you could utter," Tom said softly.

"You can speak snake. Say something to him, he seems confused. Besides, he's much too young to bite, I would say he doesn't have the proper fangs for it or developed venom sacs. Not at this rate..."

"No, he is aware of his place, and he is armed to the teeth, full grown from my mind. See, in the light...his fangs. You have no fear about what's in its nature? That's arrogant of you."

Luna had what she called a cold lace inside of her, something that would occur in patterns when she bothered. "You wouldn't allow him to."

Tom mouth curved in the barest of smiles, and as if sensing the change, the serpent raised its head, its coils arching up. Luna stared at them both, master and the apparition of the Slytherin mascot, and strengthened her resolve.

"If he bites me, I wouldn't be in any state for a duel. And this isn't a very natural place, by the way. Cecil's unique."

"Unnatural is just another word for the unexplored and...Cecil?"

"Oh, he's clearly a Cecil. You see, his eyes are only half open."

The little snake glimmered, and seemed to bask in all the attention it was receiving. "There, he likes it...a natural name for an unnatural snake."

"I perfected this art based on what I observed from nature itself. I'm afraid you must eat your words in that regard...I do so enjoy your reasoning. Avoid one quick disaster to prepare for the next one that will surely test you past your endurance. Remarkably played, Luna," he muttered, idly leaning back in his self-proclaimed throne.

"Ah, I'm fickle when it comes to disasters, actually, but I'm sure I'll be more willing for the task that's worth it. A snake bite is rather dull, and I hate stories that end that way, don't you? Usually, it's after traveling so far and seeing so many wondrous things, then you step on a looped weed which is really a snake lying in wait... It's quite a loophole."

"I see your point, my dear, and am of the same mind. For me, it would especially embarrassing."

Luna smiled, feeling more at ease and ever more curious about this person who had done so much...so many terrible things, unimaginable things, and in a more whispered word, great things.

"Might I...might I ask you some questions? Since I'm here? There is so little known about you."

"Let me guess, in pursuit of truth, an always subjective truth. For your father's sake no less…As if any soul would ever see your words or know what became of you."

"…Would you be hiding something then? Is this a clever ploy, for why else would you care if no one but yourself would know? You know, you are my opponent; it would be best to know as much about you as possible."

He burst out laughing, and it wasn't as unpleasant a sound as she had expected.

"So it's a means to an end. A tolerable one. Usually one doesn't reveal their hand so soon. But since you made the attempt, you may ask anything you'd like."

"Anything? Anything at all? You aren't speaking in jest?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"And you'd answer, right? Not just anything you'd like...but with sincerity?"

"My dear, how would you be able to detect any falsehoods on my part? I guarantee nothing but my indulgence, and you, my would-be interviewer, are at the mercy of my whims." He tented his fingers together, with an air of satisfaction.

"Your hands."

"Yes, these are commonly known as hands, and there is a left and right one. Your schooling must be getting along well. Soon you'll be on the unit about elbows. Who knows, you might reach feet someday if you really devote yourself to your studies and if you are lucky."

"I can touch my toes, actually. It's not that hard, but you are taller than me and have a stiff back, I think, possibly from sitting in that sort of chair, and you must not be trying. I can tell by your hands. They twitch when you are distressed, and usually after my inquiries. Oh, and your eyes flash every now and then. I'm not sure what that means yet, we've only just met."

His gaze was briefly directed at his hands, as though they were a very treacherous pair indeed. All gloves were off. Ah, his own hands were against him.

"Do you have any writing materials, perchance? I haven't seen a trace of parchment in this book. Is it an oversight? An odd one to have, isn't it? You should know without details, everything derails. Oh my, if you get ink from the squid, how do you come by a quill? A rather sticky predicament." Notice, she thought. He is a shape shifter of the most skittish type. Luna found watching him a most enjoyable occupation, second to listening to him.

"Well, I don't come by them with ludicrous rhymes."

"Enemies of the Heir, beware...I thought you were fond of rhymes. It wasn't that good but it is a start... Did you curse the writing on the wall? You spoke much of patterns in words, so rhyming would be considerably powerful. I can only conclude that you cursed the writing, to make us behave towards your devices. I knew that I was acting oddly lately."

"It was a poor medium, the blood that was used and for another mean...I did ponder it for a moment, you know, whether or not to seize the opportunity of having so many under my control at once. Of course, Dumbledore and others more capable of mind, safe to say few in number, would have been unaffected. I did consider it briefly...I prefer a slow siege rather than a sudden undertaking of that nature. Besides, I have a new goal in mind this time around."

"Your message was to make them remember, wasn't it? They can't forget, it clings to people afterwards. You know, Mr. Filch still can't get rid of the stain. Even the stones remember." Before she blinked, she promptly had parchment in her lap and a quill provided.

"And what questions do you have for me? In your situation, I imagine asking me what my greatest weakness is would be a good place to start."

"Well, then I would already know your weakness. No matter what you would freely offer, it would be a most acute case of dull wit." It is worth remembering, Luna pondered, that he was not predisposed to smiling, or smiling without a purpose. Even though he had only a half-life of a smile, she had the sudden impression that it was akin to a treasure, and Luna was strangely pleased. She considered a proper question of a magnitude equal to the occasion.

"What are some of your most favorite things? You know, the things you simply can't do without and never part with? Things the whole world would be a sham grey and the air would taste terribly salty, those sort of things?" For to her, it was the most natural question in the world, the most invasive, yes, but the most natural as well. One had to have a reason to hate anything, but liking took no reason at all.

"Is something wrong?" Luna asked, after he had offered no form of response. Perhaps he had understood her methods and would refuse to comply.

"No..." he said, vaguely. "I...what a broad inquiry… I would say what drives me, what made me. What I would miss the most, what I can not do without. Magic. I am aware this is a less than extraordinary reply."

"Why ever not? That's a wonderful thing to miss. Actually, I've never thought of what it would be like not having magic. It's rather like not having the sky, or a nose, or something."

"Magic is often taken for granted. You've always known it. Why would you question it?"

"Everything should be questioned, don't you think? I might have once or twice, you know, questioned it. But you can question something to death, I suppose. I've heard of that happening."

"Indeed. How unfortunate. And where did you get that from?"

"Question comes in threes, usually. Let's say, you're allowed only three, too. You can ask only about what you're allowed to ask, then you waste them. You know, there was this large creature, a toad I believe, that held all the secrets of the world. He hopped from the great seas, and swallowed the first of everything. And one day, someone came upon him, and he offered just three questions. Well, that somebody didn't believe him, and questioned the truth of the matter. Then they questioned how he could talk, for we think speech only belongs to us. Hearing a talking toad bothers some people. But not you, since you speak snake, you can surely relate. The toad just could, for he took the first word as well, bit of a silly question, that was. The only problem was that it was a fairly bad word, and made for bad breath. The poor toad easily offended most creatures. And then, finally, they asked what was a right question, and wasted them all. The toad got fed up, and left shortly after...he could have eaten that person but who knows. But it might be better not to know. You can't look for what you know."

"...I shouldn't have called your rhyming ludicrous. I overstated myself, there. I had not expected this rubbish to pop out of your head. That, my dear, now that is ludicrous."

"I'll have you know that most people wouldn't believe this, either. You-Know-Who, in a little girl's diary, going through my drawers and ruining my hats. You said so yourself, remember. 'No one would believe you anyway."

"I was referring to the 'you' in that no one would believe _you. And I never went through your drawers..." _Nevertheless, he looked less certain of himself now. Luna pressed on.

"Then why do you suppose people have a natural fear of toads?"

"Snakes. Serpents. They have a natural fear of serpents, not toads and frogs."

"Oh. Well still. There's no reason not to believe a toad couldn't leap away from the world. Honestly. It's odd, you know, when you're arguing as a logical fallacy, a boy in a book. Really, I thought you would understand."

"I understand the analogy. By the way, it was on the mark before you mentioned a foul-smelling toad from space. We can all be doomed by our need to know, yet some just know without looking. It's a sign of greatness, to look past the complexities, or the distractions, that bar most minds from truly advancing into realms unknown."

"Very true. But it's not really greatness. Anyone can do that, if they are put in the place to do it. Wait a moment...if everyone's scared of snakes, why aren't you? Since you're the Heir of Slytherin, you must be in quite an eternal fright."

"Now, I said the average person, not one such as myself." Luna stared at him blankly.

"And what might you be, exactly?"

"I am so much more than the mundane. I am on the brink of transcending my humanity, life, even death...You're speechless" he said, softly. She collected herself swiftly. It was like trying to hold back water in a chipped glass.

"Why would you want to do that?" she whispered. "I was dwelling on it all day, meeting you and possibly not coming back. I think...I hope that knowing everything will end eventually, makes that eventual better. And what you mean, life? All that time, doing nothing? That would drive me mad."

"Oh, but hasn't it?"

"I don't quite have your meaning," she responded.

"I've heard about you from more than one source. Apparently, you're the local lunatic. The children have decided to cast their madness onto you. Aren't you the lucky one."

"Cast their madness on me?" Luna was alarmed. She had been unaware of this, in any case, and felt a little diseased. Had she been spelled out? "It's just a name, Tom. It caught on, Loony Lovegood is easy off the tongue, you know, and they need something to distract themselves with, I suppose. I don't see the harm."

"The harm in making you the bastion of their every insecurity and doubt…You're what they fear in the world, Luna, every part of them they deny, that is what you are. You might assume I'm offering you some sympathy. Perish the thought. I find it pitiful at best, and not to mention arrogant of you."

"I can't help it if they think I'm mad. I might be. I'm not sure; I don't know how to tell. Everyone says it, though. I think they compare themselves to me. I am their irrefutable fact, they can count on me to be the same. Even if you don't say it, in a way, they would miss me."

"You've been pondering this more than a few times to reach that conclusion, a very astute conclusion but one with a fundamental flaw. How many times do you think about it daily, I wonder? Your reputation is catching up to you, and I must say…you have quite a lot to live up to." He tilted his head, gauging her reaction. She was still. "Madness is a state of mind, but it is as relative as morality. They'd choose another to fill your shoes, you know. And you do know. So you've claimed your madness, I see, but are you so sure you're mad? Perhaps they are the ones who are mad. Perhaps you are the picture of sanity. Let me shed some light on your mental health. I wouldn't give you the benefit of being mad, Luna, because I know you'd use it to be a martyr, to fuel your identity. I don't hand out needless gratification. Why did you come here to duel with me?"

"Because you asked me to," she said, bluntly.

"Did you have to accept and waste my time? If you had refused, I could have just ended your life then and there, since you're in a hurry, and we could have avoided all this in between nonsense. You seemed surprised."

"You're having a jest at me. You have an odd sense of humor, and are just trying to bamboozle me. While it's worked so far, I've got the measure of you now. No more of that, I hope you've had your fun."

"Granted. But where's the fun in dueling with someone who doesn't have the will to live? The joke's on me this time I'm afraid. Where's the sport, really?"

A heavy sensation curled up in her stomach. Is that what he thought of her? "You're making a sport of me. You see, my journalism techniques are coming through; you've just confessed."

"Was it a secret?"

"I shouldn't have to tell you this, really, but it's more fun if you had kept it a secret. You've killed the mood."

"Consider the act a mercy killing. You're flittering about avoiding the truth. It's amusing as it is bothersome, and I'm torn whether to put an end to it. You've fallen into your role and you're playing right into my hands as we speak." She looked suspiciously at his hands.

"I might have a trap arranged myself." And she did, within the hours, and soon, either way, this would be over. "I captured you, if you think about it. I had you quite literally. You were in my hands, and I showed common courtesy. I did not toss you out a window, bury you in Hagrid's dustbin, or burn you in the fireplace. I did not tie you to an owl and send you to Switzerland or leave you for the papzygoos that eat paper. It's like a delicacy to them, you know, and I could have done some good for the environment. I could have left you with Madam Pince, remember that, and I saved you when she crushed you under her heels and you were in peril. Overall, I can say I've behaved quite well when you were in my hands. And now, when you have a perfect opportunity, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"All I have to say is: I knew you'd be in the library, struggling with the reading I had provided you, and I knew you'd come for me where I would then cut you off from all aid. And now, don't you feel, oh, stupid? Naive? Arrogant? A mix of all three? Take you pick."

"You have no manners," she said, heavily. "From this point on, I'm keeping this interview purely professional. What about your role-playing? That sounded interesting."

"Glad you asked. For instance, you really are an odd little bird who plays the part of a human girl in the role of a wise fool. Soon, you'll let them tar and feather you, and the little bird will realize that in the end, a wise fool is still a fool."

"You think I'm wise?" Luna asked, surprised. He blinked.

"What…no. You're more than an average fool"

"You're doing what Daddy said boys do. They go half way around the world to say something nice. Thank you, that was quite lovely of you."

"No, no, no! Absolutely not, it's a paradox, you bubble-headed…" He seemed to under some duress, sitting straight up in his chair like that and gripping the sides. Well, she wouldn't badger him, if he was so shy about nice things. She would give him a way out, if need be.

"All right. If you say so, Tom. Any more commentary on these roles?"

"Like your Harry. What do you think he'd do if Miss. Weasley disappears? He'll charge blindly into his own demise. Because that is what he is supposed to do, what he's been fashioned to do by Dumbledore who placed him with the Muggles, a decision that tells me everything about his intentions for the boy."

"Harry was with Muggles? That's negligent of Dumbledore, I think. Muggles wouldn't understand magic, that's why they're Muggles. They forgot how." Luna misunderstood the look on his face, thinking she had, again, missed the vital piece of the puzzle.

"They didn't forget. They were afraid of it, are afraid of it. They only want to control it, bleed it away into myths. Magic is beyond them, so they close their eyes like frightened children and wish it away. They deny it with all their little hearts."

She wasn't sure she believed that in the least. In fact, not a shred of the evidence at hand measured up. Magic, that tingly butterfly feeling you get all over, in a hostile environment, would become more volatile and inflammatory. Luna thought about magic in dreams, something her great-great Aunt Sileny had said. If someone could will it away….that was unthinkable.

"Oh, look, I've upset you." He smiled darkly. "Of course, there is...disappointing circumstances arising from the Wizarding World. I know that. It is best not to allow yourself to be too surprised by anything, to be guarded at every turn. Put no such reliance on anyone's frail shoulders. Don't give them power over you, for they must, as their nature demands, use it for their own ends. And greatness, greatness that comes from conquering such dependence...greatness is what the world will be termed unnatural and unsightly."

With no small amount of hesitation, Luna said. "If you close all doors to people...I mean, you'll never allow for any good either, along with the bad. It sounds lonely."

"Only if you miss their company. I have never had that problem. Only a person with an infirm mind would go to another to give them something they find themselves lacking. Take what you want, give them no opportunity to lord it over you. Nothing is ever given freely. You know, I've learned that, of all things. Everything has a price."

Suddenly, a sound came from the crumpled corner of the room. Luna flinched at the desperation of the scratching, of a panicked animal left behind without food or water. This somnolent room was suddenly covering something horrible, like an old, matted rug covering a filthy stain.

"Revolting," he muttered, looking disgusted and gazing into the darkness that gathered in the crinkled corner of the room. Revolting…meaning repulsive with a dash of repugnance, or a revolt…

"Is there someone else here? You have another guest?" she questioned, calmly, as she was taught to address a host, and fighting back the general chill the sound brought with it. She gripped her quill tightly. He became thoughtful.

"You'll…appreciate this. Someone like you would have to, to see clearly the implications, the possibilities of what I have done. Even I scarcely can comprehend it." He spoke excitedly, his actions more vibrant and vivacious. As if he had kept a secret for too long, and it was eating him up inside. "Shall I show you?"

Some small part of her protested. Because that sound also carried the harshness of a thing not brought into the world before, a well of sights unseen. What could sound scary might be because she had not heard it before and its newness could be what made her body revolt. And his reaction ensnared her curiosity as to what could animate him so. A good journalist would go. Her mother would go.

"I would like that very much," she said, holding back her excitement. The room split at the seams, dividing into a gaping wound of blacks, greens, and purples.

"Follow me." His command was meant in several ways, but all she could focus on was how she could see the spiders that held this all together. He turned, always collected, and she noticed how tall he was again. How lost she would be if she didn't follow since order had finally had been dissolved in its own derelict decay, with all its weight finally cracking it. There had never been any order at all, you see. The diary would have lasted as long, she believed. Order was time oriented. Common sense, that. The safe hold, the serpentine Common Room that had shielded her from this reservoir of pure energy, was distant and she didn't look back.

For a while, the pair did have some footholds, a semblance of a bridge. It was too narrow and not made a stone but she didn't notice nor did it matter. In fact, it was fortunate, for if she had taken the time to rationalize it, she would have fallen with no discernable end. She was walking on clouds, or whatever suited her. There was little question what he walked on, though, she didn't ponder it. He paid no heed to the Platners or the flying Hygills, lost in his own creation, no doubt. Then he stepped off, and she sensed the bridge ended. He kept his strides in mid-darkness. Luna knew he was waiting to savor the moment when she would call out for him to stop and help her across. The grey line did end, and she peered curiously over the edge, picturing being forced to walk the plank of a ghost ship and fed to the kelp.

If he could make it across, maybe she could. Luna wasn't about to ask for assistance. She supposed…she supposed there could be something she couldn't see there, a giant slug perchance. By the time Tom turned to smirk over his shoulder, he found she was right beside him, staring at him expectantly and smiling pleasantly. She watched his cloak sway strangely, because gravity didn't tug so greedily here, like a child wanting candy or the like. The idea made her happy.

"You do realize that you're standing on nothing," he felt the duty to inform her. Like a gentleman, she thought.

"It just so happens that nothing's cushiony and I think it likes me." She bounced for emphasis. The slug was very fat.

"My will is the only thing preventing you from falling," he interjected, and she didn't think he was being entirely truthful either. He seemed moody now, and without waiting for a reply, drew a door with his finger. She had always wanted to do that…

"You must have very sharp nails," she commented. "To be able to cut through the time-space continuum."

Behind that door, the door he made….there was the death of childhood. Essentially. The tale every child fears in their heart of hearts…

In this place, there was a door. Not like any she had seen before. Not like the one he had previously made. Salty, briny old door, deep within the bowels of the brain, etched in some sort of remote language. Harsh symbols in no apparent pattern, just based on mood. As he was. All around the door that was not a door at all, a mockery of the idea that one could ever leave, was a seal, very much like burnt skin. Vessels branched out from it, gold and ivory vines with a clottish material running to and fro like rats. It was beautiful and hideous.

The clash between reality and this world erupted, a trailing bolis. Luna had always known this place existed. This was the truth in its purest form. How had it ended up here, with him? Tom was behind her, and she could feel his smile. What I have done…he made this?

"Go on," he whispered. "Go on…look inside."

Luna saw a covered, small window that she had missed entirely, or maybe now it was only visible. She knew she had to see. It slid open with a hiss.

Most would have lost themselves at this juncture. Most would have slowly lost their bravery, ability to stand, to speak…maybe even their sanity bit by terrible bit. Luna did not. What she had feared so much in the library saved her. Now her madness kept her sane. Inside was a girl with half a face. It wasn't human by any means. It was a distorted, contorted creature, with blotches of color eating away like cancer. Its other half that was not whole, ended with ripped shards of skin. Yellow, yellow everywhere, and oranges. It had one eye with no lids, and it looked at her. Eyes, you know, never show what's inside, just hints. This one showed everything, every fear, every wretched thought, with desire and childhood hopes and dolls. Innocent love slowly crumpling in the rubbish bin, stained with stale dirt. It was looking for its mother, calling out, even though there was no mouth, just a red dot of half moon lips, pasted on. It existed in an in-between region, twisting and turning. She saw its nightmares, yes, it was having nightmares. Of being alone, the last person on earth, and the world was dark and cold, and there was this strange, soulless animal that spoke in the corner of the Last Bedroom on Earth, and something was scratching at the door, wanting in. And eventually, the half-girl would let it in just to stop the noise. It was a dance of seeing in between the raindrops, the blooming and wilting of marigolds.

Then she realized that this girl was Ginny Weasley, and she should have screamed only she couldn't. She simply observed from her tower in the windmill of her mind.

"The process isn't complete. It's pathetic, isn't it." He motioned towards the door with some contempt. "Trapped by her own dreams while I watch and reap the benefits."

"You made the…" She was speaking, but not really thinking, just trying to find some sort of answer. Luna was about to say cage. "The experiment."

"She didn't have to step in. Now, assign the blame again to its rightful owner. Nothing I ever do is without purpose, you know. Why not, in my return, make a point? She could break free, but she won't let herself. Don't you see? In her mind, she thinks she deserves this. Interestingly enough, she's not fully aware of what is happening. It's not in her conscious mind. But deep inside, she finds herself guilty. Probably to give herself more importance than she's worth. Martyrs are the most arrogant, willing victims are the most selfish. What's the pleasure in a sudden victory, when the enemy resorts to a self cannibalism under siege?"

He walked around her, to the door and leaned against the wall, looking through the slit. "I didn't know what I would see in this venture. Even in the most detailed of books, an actual account is seldom found. I'll admit, even I did not expect these results. Souls can not disappear, like energy. It just…changes. Magic is closely related to the inner person, you realize. I never put much stock in the manner of soul magic, until I started to find things out, actual proof, and put the pieces together. The procedure is works both ways. There was the risk she'd break free in the earlier stages. But the risk is more profitable than I could have imagined. It proves everything that I have ever believed."

"Like what? The existence of an inner energy?" Luna found herself drawn in. "I thought, once, it was from the ground, and to become a better witch, a little blade of grass once a day wouldn't be a bad idea."

"…That explains a lot. But no, it was obvious that magic comes from nowhere else. Muggles… They were unworthy so the magic left them, rejected them. It's an innate measuring stick. What _this_ proves is the way of the world. I gave her brothers hints, you know. Little things, but they should have been sufficient cause for alarm. They noticed nothing. But you…you noticed."

She wondered if the whole reason she was here was because she was the exception to his rules, the way his world worked. Judging by this diary, the pure dissection involved to empower it, he needed to know every bit and bob, with his sterilized manner and cutting eyes. He needed to know how she worked. It was beyond her comprehension, his interest.

"You noticed…" he muttered again, before facing her. "A perfect stranger, one who dismissed you as a nobody, who fled from you and poured ample descriptions of you in childish scribbles. Yet you noticed while her own blood kin failed her, leaving her with a fate beyond their comprehension, and yes, I will let them know what they did when the time comes. You see, I'm not really killing her. My rebirth shouldn't come from death, no, but beyond the throes of death itself. It depends on how you view it. Her soul, open as it is, was free for the taking. This diary, battered, from a lowest shelf of Muggle shop, will house what's left of her soul, unused as a dirty old playroom with broken toys. She will still exist, and gradually forget about her hardships because she'll grow content with her dream world. It is the best world for her, after all, an act of considerable mercy on my part. I, on the other hand, will be reborn out of the ashes of her weakness."

The light beyond the doorway wavered violently, flickering like a cat's tail. In the light generated by the fragmented remains of Ginny Weasley's soul and so-to-be fragmented sanity, Tom's features were illuminated as if in a veil like a caul. You could easily have found a similarity with a picture of an alchemist working by candlelight. She was enthralled. She wanted to know how he worked.

"What is the soul made of, Tom?" She had her own theory of butterfly wings but kept it to herself. Luna drifted closer. 'Just energy alone?"

"Not quite. Energy alone would destroy the body overtime. Age in other words. An inevitable gravitation towards disorder. However, energy does not have the characteristics." He traced a symbol on the doorway lightly with his fingertip. The light churned. "It has its own sense of preservation, responses to stimuli, and conscious use of power. The body eventually caves in. The soul without a body is not limited by pain, sickness, and even the laws of energy, any law at all. It can tap into vast abundances of magic, previously unattainable. Spells, certain spells, cause a ripple effect on the soul. Magic feeds off the soul, to convert itself. You can not have one energy without the other."

'Cecil," Luna said. "He was hatched from her soul, wasn't he? Her soul was a nest of untapped, unrealized eggs."

"Her soul? Really, you think so?" The idea amused him.

"Why do you want to come back? Bodiless, you don't have to worry about much of anything. You know, you could see everything in the world you couldn't before. There are more magical places than Hogwarts. You don't have to be as you were." Because truth be told, Luna could not imagine wanting to go back.

"The soul still needs a constructed form of order, or else, it would journey towards disorder more rapidly than in a human. There would be considerable strain to keep whole formless unless possessing vessels frequently. Ghosts, for instance, have focal points, formed by their environment or great places of concentrated magic. Ghosts are whole and un-effective. If the soul was encased before death, the magic would have a constant source, instead of nothing, like your toilet friend. My power is indeed growing stronger, as is my knowledge of magic. Not wand-waving. Not spells in a textbook. But my understanding of magic is surpassing the greatest wizards of all the ages. Yes, when I return, I will have to gradually improve my body, but there will be time. "

He crossed quickly towards her, and there was no route of escape. He grabbed her by her shoulders with finality, almost like granting her praise. She felt Cecil coil around her left arm. "And I shall be taking you with me. But first, what do you have to say?"

"You need my opinion, Tom?" She asked, quietly. She was under the impression that he questions everyone but himself. But then when he does question himself…he might ask…her? Was he undergoing some hesitation, watching Ginny and every breath she took?

"You don't wear your opinion, as others do. I am left in the dark. Enlighten me. In your world, what does this mean to you?"

"I like the diary, I like the little green spiders, but I don't like the secrets it keeps, from Ginny, and from you. It's selfish, hungry magic, it does not die or end, and not in a good way." And it was selfish magic. In her experience, spiders snag prey in their web and eat them. Those spiders were dangerous if uncontrolled.

"Ah, your little world is in absolutes, is it? I confess I'm disappointed."

"I'm sorry, I just think I know why you hate Ginny so much."

"The little brat's not worth hatred. She inspires nothing from me but disgust."

"There's the secret. You hate her because she's in a dream world, you know. Didn't you want to create a dream world for yourself? So you hate what's in yourself."

"Under those terms, Luna, I should hate you the most."

She didn't want to know if he did or did not hate her. She didn't like the thought of him hating her, but she, in general, greatly disliked that kind of consuming hatred. If she ever knew hate, and it might be beyond her. She was sad for a blink of an eye.

"I don't think badly of you," she assured him, and this was the truth. For magic was never good or bad. Just gluttonous. Instead of a heart, she might be inside of a stomach.

"I don't dream, like you or that wisp of a girl." He smirked, proud as ever. "What good is living in dreams? I granted that girl her wish. I hope you don't wish the same, but then again, I was right, wasn't I? You have no will to survive."

"But…but…"

"Oh, spit it out."

"You've made a home in her head. You do to live in dreams."

"This dream's going to become a reality, straight from her mind. You know the myth, of the god's broken skull and the warrior that sprung from it…That's the difference between you and me. I make my thoughts reality while you let yours build up into an infection. I can change that. If you are willing to be cooperative, I will reward you. I can use someone with your sight. I'll focus your talents. And no restrictions. No more. Now, you feel like you are alone and can barely speak without being ridiculed, you don't even know if you're mad, and you're wasting away. You feel it, the stagnation in your heart. With me, you don't have to be afraid. Doors will open for you that you've never even _dreamed_ about. I will show you great things, impossible things. You know I can. I've shown you the inside of a human soul, and this is only the beginning. If you join me."

"My father…" was her answer.

"Your father's against the Ministry. He told Ginny himself when you were gone. How it's getting more authoritarian every day, more rotten inside out. He will be delighted at its downfall. I have a new plan now, and he'll be none the wiser. His only daughter, a powerful witch, who will prevent an ailment that should befall him…" Luna's mind whirled and the snake tightened its grip on her arm, its skin tingling against her flesh.

"You could end his grief. There are ways…"

"You'll make him not feel pain anymore?"

"I can show you how. The credit shall be yours for the taking."

"Then why are you sad if you can make pain go away?" His breath drew in with a tight hiss.

"You left your time because you weren't happy. Otherwise you wouldn't have left. You wouldn't be in a diary. You can't make pain go away for yourself, so how could you for Daddy?"

He looked wild now. "I don't have pain like he does and bury myself in it. Power does not come from a living grave."

"Don't you call my father pathetic," she whispered, now getting ruffled. "You can run all you like, I'd rather not."

'No, you'd rather revel in your quiet suffering. Does it make you feel better, how they treat you? Does it make you feel important?" he sneered.

"No," she said, finding some strength now. "There is no importance to be had by house mates. I think they like to find themselves by doing things that aren't always nice. Importance isn't like an outside bed-bug. They do take my —."

"They matter to you then, that much is apparent."

And he was right. She was a perfect fit in the iron maiden. Luna could understand now how Ginny came to be as she was. The Heir seemed to be a mirror, seemingly unassuming, but reflecting one's own biases and inner, tucked-away secrets. It was hard to bear and of course, you'd fall apart. Just then, the subtle scratching on the door changed. He dismissed it, as we often do when we become used to a noise or a bother. In the back of Luna's mind, a realization gripped her by its talons. Could what she had seen…be Ginny pulling herself back together? Tom did not expect that from Ginny, nor did he expect that from her. He could not only show you raw and naked, he could make you believe it. Reflections can be bent and used for a purpose, and he was particularly gifted at glass making. Perhaps because of the fire she was beginning to see in his eyes. Luna's spirit was rising, taking some heart from Ginny.

"You…you don't understand. Importance is not external, or it would be called exportance." He seemed amused, rather than angry. It seemed to seep out of him, tainting the heart of the matter all the more so.

"You remind me of someone I once knew," he said, taking a step back, the picture of charm. "Though I can't say too much of the similarities. There is just…something about you I can't quite place." Luna had the same sense of deja-vu, on the other side of the apple tree. There was something very familiar about him, so familiar it hurt.

"We could have met before," Luna said.

"In another life…" he drawled, almost playfully. This place was shifting now, and Ginny was far, far away, in the gallows of trees and thieves. Where the thief thought everyone else was a thief. "…It's entirely possible." He stood in the middle, an oak in a forest fire. She thought she'd find every answer in the world, where she could finally understand. All that was given was pangs of confusion. He admitted the familiarity but what could that mean?

"Don't be so solemn." Luna felt his fingers lace around her face, cupping her chin. "Let me offer you a way out, one last time."

"You will not be able to stand against me. You can not possibly survive this encounter. And if you do, you will continue to be haunted by your own mind. Because you see too much and you don't understand. You want too much and you can't obtain it with their rules. Can you stand it much longer, the cheap little things in the world, building up and driving you away? Because that's the very worst and it gets under your skin, and how long will you last? The world has no room for you until you make room. The world…" And he was solemn, more of a petulant idol than a boy of any measure, silently mourning the world while devouring it. "It is an infection…Like the whole of it fights against you, against imperfection, every taint inside of you. It weeds through the failed, the weak, the excess waste…and then there are those who are different among them. Every vital part has a reason. The world, though it appears uncaring, gives a cold reason, does it not. To only a few, for if there were too many, the reasons would cease to matter. It would be a pity, a self-infliction, if you don't use your deviation to your advantage, as you were meant to. In your case, your catharsis would bring you pain, pain you can't ignore forever. You feel it now."

His words lit the rain drenched candles inside of her. Reason based on the passing seasons, where she was young, and saw the truth in people's faces. She was, as he said, different. As he said, it hurt. A mark people would sense, though not visible, a memory of instinct from another age. She hadn't dared to ask why. She never thought there could be a reason behind any of it, not at all. World or not. Magic or not. The Muggles forgot, she knew, something remembered only by a few. What if wizards forgot? Luna should have the answer instinctively, and the fall was nothing compared to the landing. Did she have a choice where she landed?

"Thank you." Luna looked up, with a shy smile. "I needed to hear that. I was unsure why I came here, to see you. It's thoroughly clear now. "

"I knew you would see things my way." Tom's mood was considerably more amiable, and Luna was pleased. "It was impossible for you to do otherwise, if you held a shred of intellect. Now, there are things that must be done, steps we must take if you shall play your part without detection. I-.'

"Oh, no, Tom," she spoke up, hurriedly. "I'm ready for our duel. Aren't you?"

"That is a lesson saved for later days, Luna. There will plenty of time for me to train you after my return. Besides, there is no urgency. You've understood your position without any need of further persuasion."

"You know what you said? About how truth and lies are the same kind, you know, from the same place. I think that's true, it's from the same place. I told you, I see some truth from what you said. You said to use my deviation. I'm using it to fight you, Tom."

Luna could tell he was shocked. His shock slowly seeped into the dark namelessness of the idol. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had hurt him. One he had not expected. He made a reflection that suited the source. It seemed in his efforts, he had told the truth about himself. Luna felt a guilty shiver run its course through her body. It was as if she was a child who had run amok in an old temple with chocolate on her fingers.

"Then we shall duel." At the inflection of his voice, the vague web they balanced precariously on shifted. There was a tunnel, empty and rich. He entered what Luna perceived to be the eye of the storm, and she raced to catch up to him.

"You've certainly struggled to make yourself worthy of your fate, haven't you. Yes, this is a fate suited for you. In the middle of things, Luna, remind yourself, if you are able to think at all, not to beg. You denied yourself preservation thrice. It is finished."

"I'm glad it's finished. I'd much rather duel than dwell on whether or not to duel for ages."

"So you're satisfied. With this. You threw away every possibility to settle for an unmarked grave, and you're proud of it. You really are a child.'

It was finished, and walking to the end of the tunnel, feeling a power that threatened to swallow her whole, Luna savored the end of the forked road. This was the first time she had ever made a direct decision. Whatever happened, she would not hate Tom, because he had given her a choice. Speaking of old wounds, this scene began to get gangrene. The tunnel ended in fragments. A heptagonal room with a mirror on every wall. It gave the impression of infinity, a virtual self-sustained magic. She felt a tug on her earlobe. He had taken hold of her radish earring, looking distantly intrigued.

"I want to test something. Since you…make a habit of consuming dirt, you're a walking garden because you think roots would be a magical source."

"That's a good reason," she said. "Here." She plucked an earring off, and held it up to him. "There, now you can have one too." He laughed, and pushed the radish away.

"You'll need both of them."

Tom made his way into the center of the room, his reflection making it seem as if they had an audience. Every version of him, watched her of its own accord, hungrily, a seven-headed Draconis. Luna would not have been surprised if one panel had slid back and a starved lion had come thundering out, its eyes as wild and yellow as Ginny's. She took a step into the room herself, the mosaic of eyes never leaving her.

"Move back," he instructed. Unsure, her feet stuck to the floor. "I can see you trembling," he added, as a way of explanation.

I didn't expect...," Luna said, looking around warily. "I thought...it to be just between you and me, a private affair. These mirrors...Have you kept yourself company, or..."

"They're quite harmless. I use them for reference on how I was, on what I am. They won't leap out and grab you, drag you away to where they are. I wouldn't have it. I want you all to myself. Now...say my real name. I trust it will give you a much needed change of perspective." The rest of him, the Others, drifted away, at a wave of his hand.

"I know, that should be enough for you," she said, quickly. "I don't even want to know how you would change my eyes. Switch them around, I suppose, but really now."

"It's not enough. I rarely accept so little. I wouldn't be who I am if I did. Say it."

"No." She stood up straighter.

"You can not, then? This does not bode well for you."

"I can, but I won't." This was among one of her first, necessary untruths. "I told you how it makes me feel. I'd prefer to keep a clear head for this."

"I wouldn't recommend it," he said, stoutly. "After a while, you'll beg for anything but a clear head, you'll be begging for some escape."

"I don't think so," she said, firmly.

"Well. We'll see, won't we. Since I am in a good humor, I think I should tell you...your little letter, to Dumbledore...gone. I found it, during the school hour. Very touching, I must say, all your theories about me. I liked the one where I'm a time-traveler from a black dimension of spotted bees due to my hive mind, where I must have been banished to after that Halloween night, and inflicted Miss Weasley with a sting... But alas, the old man shall never receive those to drool over."

The letter to her father...her breathing grew shallow and there were dots buzzing in front of her eyes. Her head felt thick, and grainy, and she couldn't hear that well, suddenly.

"My...I checked it this morning. It was still there. You said you didn't go through my drawers. I put them there, because I..."

"I saved the letter for your father, you know. Such sentimental drivel, but I pocketed it for you. I would have given it back if you had agreed to join me. Pity."

"My handwriting."

"A simple charm. Undetectable by all but the most extreme scrutiny. Enough of this prattle, let's have our duel. You've been taught the basics, I'm assuming. Now pay attention. Unless you hand me all the power so willingly."

Unsure of what that meant, she drew her wand from behind her ear. He already had his gripped tightly in his hand. He inclined his head slightly, in a remarkably feline movement. …well, she had the feeling she was being toyed with. Instead of bowing all the way, she inclined her head in imitation, her eyes never leaving his. Her lip trembled a bit, but she forced herself to remain in her tower.

"Ladies first. I want to see what you have up your sleeve for me...surely, you have prepared."

Her throat tightened. And he laughed...and something inside of her flared up unexpectedly, all the tension in her limbs was drag away, lines everywhere, and there was a burst. Something scaled the tower. Someone took control of her hands and she held on as tightly as she could.

"ABSCIDO ABSCONDITUM!" she screamed, tears in her eyes welling up to get a good look, and brought her wand in a full arc.

His eyes widened. His mouth dropped carelessly open. He quickly stepped aside, and the spell brushed him...No...she was too far away. Desperation made her run forward without thinking, a mantra of criticism wailing in her head, move back, he said, move back, stupid, stupid thing to do! Why did I did I listen! He waved his wand, and her feet flew off, taking her with them. They skidded right over her head, like some sort of ramp then she was dropped flat on her back. The impact cut short her scream of surprise. The pain bit into her, more than she had ever remembered in her life. The swiftness of the attack, moreover, intercepted her train of thought.

"Well, that's not very even-handed. I am pleasantly surprised. What depths would you go to survive, I wonder?" He cast no shadow. It hurt her eyes, to see such an anomaly. If only she was dreaming...impossible, dream pain was never this bad.

"Don't you wonder? What you are capable of, when you see the line between life and death? Never? Can't speak, can you? How boring. Let's try something else."

The pain darted away, and she couldn't blame it at all. She would run if she could. Suddenly, Luna detected a faint shimmer coil around her. She felt for her wand, slowly...making no sudden movements quite yet.

"Remember this spell? You should. It was in the book. And you should know how to free yourself. If not..."

He raised his wand with flourish. "Incendio corpum." The curse hit near her hand, and the floor...the stone just...screamed to her because she knew what those words meant. "Then again, I've always been curious, you know, about what would happen if the shielding spell came in contact with human flesh. Would it wither away the skin, eat away the muscles, leaving only clean bones behind, or a distorted, raw pulp? Would it be intense agony, or a brief, caress? Who knows..."

Luna saw the shielding charm, if that was what it was, slither closer, taunting promises in a cross-bones style.

"I can wait to find out. You can yield, right now. There is no need to...suffer so. Yield, and I will make sure you never suffer again. It only takes one word to change your fate. I would have you not force my hand. I don't want to have to clean up the mess." She remained silent, looking at the shield

"You want to make this a tragedy, don't you. Laying there, having fought with everything stacked against you. Tragedy requires a certain degree of singularity, of greatness to be found. Don't fool yourself."

Cut what? Abscindo what? What was she cutting? Her mind reached desperately, thinking of her old pictures she had when she was younger, the picture book of words.

"Very well."

The shield grew closer. She turned her face away from him and kept her wand low. She whispered as softly as she could, "Abscindo Scutum." And hoped. It was like slipping through the forest on a broom going at light speed. The shield brushed around her, teasingly as snarling branches reaching out to tear her hair. The edge cut her shoulder, and she almost fell back into the spell, but she twisted painfully in a dodge and wasted no time in gaining her footing, her ankle trembling violently.

"Petrificus Totalus."

He brushed it aside with a mere wave of his wand, as if it was nothing but a particularly annoying fly.

"If this is how you wish to challenge me, with child's play…" He stood and smiled, all charm and harm. "Then I shall show you how to play with your mind. Mere puppetry, really, to see someone drown from the inside out, don't you think."

The floor was no longer stone but water, a dark shark blue. Water only he could walk on. Water she was submerged in, the cold causing shock to dart through her heart. She registered the pressure of his hand around her neck, his fingers fitting every crevice of her neck like a well pressed collar when she had to dress up in formal robes. He reminded her of a child. Luna noticed several things at once. There was pearly foam on the water, sea shells on the crest, around his shoes, supporting him. She touched his heel with the fingers in wonder. His robes were spread out around him, dark, still, and stoically solemn, while hers floated upwards, wandering around her body, light, teasing, and carefree. The cold seeped into every part of her, and her chest burned. His face looked as if an intense heat wave was making it fuzzy. The cold outlined her heart, for her, with its fingertip, mapping it out. Her legs, ears, scalp, and deeper in. A deep imprint to carry with her, in the clay…you shall know yourself before…

Then Luna realized, her eyes widening. And he saw that she knew, and let her go. Floating downwards was like being held and not being asked to return anything. It was easy, to just let go. She would have reached for him, but the thought of the motion hurt to bad, and she didn't want to know what the actual arch of her arm, shoulder, and neck would feel like.

Then a dull light flashed in front of her eyes, eyes she had not realized she had shut. A fish, made of Lovegood quilt. It swam timidly, trying its fins out for the first time. Whatever was in the water brought it to life, like the sand had from the marbles. The light dragged her back up. Her senses started to sharpen, like a weapon against a bone. The sound from underneath was not a rhythmic lullaby as it had formerly been.

She reached out for the fish. It fit itself snuggly between her fingers, and she grasp it tightly. At the moment, she felt its love for her, simple affection, perhaps because she had kept it in her pocket or pieced it together. Because it was her family's blanket, and had been in the cradle with all of them, her included. Allowed her to wrap herself tight and feel warm, place it between her teeth and bury her face against it. It had been with her when she tried to fly. For whatever the reason, it pulled her upwards.

The glubbing sound grew frantic, and the currents caused by its movement, and nearness, clawed at her back. The worst possible thing, Luna believed, would be an ice storm, a bleak thing indeed, to be trapped with that. As if someone had heard her, the water above her began to shine, misty, and there was a relay of cracking and gathering. The water's surface was becoming frozen solid. The fish struggled, and Luna started to kick, a fire burning in her chest and not just from lack of air. Now, the fish, its loose ends of threads sailing behind it, began to soar.

The edge of the lake was in sight, though her eyes seemed to have been transformed to needle points. There was the handle of the mirror dipping into the water, its chains beckoning her. The fish flew out of the water, and the shock of air almost loosened her grip. She gasped, frantically, and clung to the chains, trying to pull herself away from the ice and what lay beneath it. Summoning a sudden burst of energy, she managed to lift her legs before the ice crashed against the wall. Bits of it covered her in a shower. The fish lay lifeless in her grip like parchment. Then a hand was on her head, dabbling in between the frozen locks of hair.

"Impressive." The voice melted into her. "Futile, but impressive."

He placed his hand on hers. Luna thought his hand became one with hers, an odd sort of warmth. Tom took the quilt that had saved her life, and tossed it to the side like rubbish. As always he was gentle and harsh, and held her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. Toying with the idea that maybe she could stand, and preventing her from falling when that proved to not be the case, a comical mishap.

"You are tired, and cold. My dear girl, you look like death warmed over. To fall so far…" A palm, against her forehead, in mimicry of a concerned parent. "Tell me where it hurts."

"Here." She pointed to her chest.

"Ah, that's not good, you know. I would say you brought my magic with you." Her head ached dreadfully.

"You've lost. I'm in there, now." He crushed her hand against her chest, as though to make her comprehend. "I'm inside of you, there's no chance. I can kill you, no matter if you continue to fight me. Give up and live. Continue and you die. Live and you will serve me. Die and you will be lost, forever, with Weasley."

"You wouldn't offer again," she choked out, cold, from against his chest.

"This isn't an offer." And it wasn't, for there was no choice; either serve with him in her heart, or die with him in her heart. She didn't mind being near him for the reprieve. She felt him burrow in her heart, and tap her magic, playing rights she had been born with like an instrument. She thought about the fish once more. Her heart had the beat of an explosion, an allergic reaction.

It seems that I have no choice," Luna whispered.

"Exactly."

She pointed her wand at his feet, while not moving a muscle, remembering what Professor Snape had said. To do whatever necessary. "It's much too chilly in here for my liking."

"Incendio" she cried, pushing him away like an Ophelia that was having none of this nonsense, and the spell melted the ice almost instantly. He made a mad grab for her, but Luna threw herself out of his reach. She let out a gasp as her ankle revolted at the strain. He simply slipped underneath the ice. He was gone, leaving a crippling silence behind. Luna shook. She hadn't cast a Petrificus Totalus on him, he should have been able to...

She inched closer to the circle, and while not giving too much of herself, like her neck, available for grabbing, peered into the water. He was nowhere to be seen, not a shadow or movement, or bubble of air. The thing must have been waiting. Now, she didn't know why, but she did take comfort in the fact that she had not cast a paralyzing charm on him, like she should have. Yet...she had no choice in the matter, so it was best to find Ginny and get out.

One more thing had to be done...she pointed her wand at the circle. At last, she said, "Gelaro ." It wasn't perfect, and the ice palace only half way frozen but it was enough. She thought of the tale of the ice queen who froze herself under a lake to wait the return of her lover gone off to fight a war. Luna put as little weight as possible on her foot, and limped towards the exit, her wand still gripped tightly in her hand. A way out could be with words, like writing on any wall in this place could form a door to escape. She would have preferred him merely to be a lost poetic soul, who could not rhyme, and he turned to a life of crime. Luna was pondering this conundrum, when she sensed the change in the room.

She slowly turned around.

The water had turned black, intensifying the feeling of something lurking unseen underneath. Luna looked at her feet. It was a hand. Her breath caught...Not because it was a hand...because it wasn't his hand. The ice broke, and there was something crawling up to join her...

"G-Ginny?" She heard herself say. Whatever it was, it had found him, and now it was after her. It was never enough, it would never end, this. It was snow rolling down a mountain. It shifted, and it was Ginny. It did not walk but remained on the ground like an animal. After so much torment, she had forgotten she had the right. Luna wanted to give up, nothing more than to stop that look. It was a creature she had seen a million times in her dreams.

"A diary is a piece of you," he said, from the shadows. "It is a mirror from which you can not hide. It shows all without discrimination."

Luna backed away from the creature as it stalked toward her.

"Do you know what this says about you? Hmmm...the fact that you blocked my only chance of survival...well, as you perceived it? I can't say much for...that mismatched thing. I have no idea what it is"

"It's a Snorkack," she corrected him.

"Oh, how could I have not known that. My memory is not yet whole, absent-minded me. Of course it is. Extinct, aren't they?"

"You believe in them?" She paused.

"Yes, I do. Sad story, that. They fed on children, did you know. But they were finicky. They only came for the guilty ones. The old saying that guilt stains the skin, and it never washes off. The scent is an ambrosia to them. Oh, they were treasured for awhile. Centuries, in fact. Children...they are not so conscious of their sins. To the eye, their innocence covers up their marks, it's like a mask, you see. Someone once told me that it's all in the eyes, that's where you can detect the anomaly. So these creatures, these idols, were used to weed them out, undo their wrongs. A sin of a child is so much greater than of someone with age, because children don't often know right from wrong. That's what the fall was...pretending to know the difference between right and wrong. Eventually, though, some could not part with their children as they must. Some do, continue to... But others cling to the offspring, in a half hope their name will still be whispered on this earth. So what was once worshiped and feared became hunted. Do you bear any guilt, Luna? It seems to think so."

"That's not true," she whispered. "That's absolutely not true. It would never hurt anyone. They're scavengers."

"A scavenger, so much better then. Hm, the name alone could have driven it to avenge its dignity. I don't blame it."

"It collects heartless boys, you know, and takes them away to a place where there is no time...so maybe, one day, they can have a heart too." The thing did shift its eyeless gaze towards him, tensing up as if it would spring.

"Ohhh, right through the...well, you get the idea. My, your guilt must be driving it mad. It's written all over your face."

Luna did indeed feel a mark on her face, and ink dripped into her palms. All she would have to do is turn and look inside a mirror. She couldn't. "I suppose you haven't fallen at all. I can tell." For some reason, she believed he had never been a child.

"I'll grant you one thing, Luna...you do have bravery. Very misguided bravery, but it's rather endearing...yield, and I might still spare you."

"Why don't you have a shadow?" she asked, changing the subject...stalling. The creature had paused, ready to attack…He shook his head, smiling.

"Are you afraid of your own shadow?" Luna asked. "That's quite sad, when your own shadow can't stand you."

Tom stopped smiling, and glared. Luna looked at the creature and believed his shadow had fled. The diary was a mirror, after all. It drew itself into the most marvelous shapes and flew towards him.

"What?" was all he got out before the shadows devoured him. Or tried to. It was definitely one of the oddest things Luna had ever witnessed. There was a struggle, and the shadows continued to shift into one nightmare to another, tearing at him. Luna wondered why he just didn't disbelieve them away. Perhaps even wanting it to happen. Luna rushed forward, raising her wand.

"Lumos!" she cried out. The shadows receded into their shells, chased away by the light. She hadn't realized how washed up she must have looked...very diminished, more like a throw away doll than a person. The ink from Ginny's (the shifter's) hands remained imprinted at his feet. It was just a small child's hands, resurrected from his past...or simply exhumed.

"Um..." she began, if only to put some sound in the air. She wasn't sure if he had made it through the memories. Then she understood...what happens to magic among Muggles, in some cases. In this case. She remembered that her secrets were written across her face, and she turned away, overwhelmed by the rush of guilt that flooded over her.

'Dull-witted girl, to take your eyes of your opponent. I thought better of you.'

Professor Snape's voice was out of place with the situation, and came out of the blue. The blue where she...Luna turned quickly, and Tom was right in front of her. He grabbed her wand hand and the intensity of his grip made her wand slip out of her hand and land at her feet. He tipped her head back and looked into her eyes, and then they were quite gone from the ice lake. At first, she thought she had inadvertently slipped into a time warp of a sort, but found the place chillingly familiar.

There was the place left for Aunt Sileny. There were the bronze, eagled plates in the pantry. The tiled floor meshed in circles, where if you stepped on one hard enough it would be like walking on air...literally, from a charm by her mother when Luna wasn't tall enough to help her cook. Animals that roamed in herds across the walls, cats in hats and fish of all colors and birds roosting in a ceiling that never got cold. Of course, these creatures had fought from time to time, ruining the wall paper, but now co-existed quite peaceably, having tired of squabbling The birds would gladly give eggs for early morning breakfast...though sometimes, unfortunately, not eggs. Daddy did not like the birds, and the birds, in turn, had never given him eggs but only the other.

There was the place where her mother stored all those odd and old items, for a rainy day. There was the garden outside along the family lake that most people stopped by to gawk at for reasons unknown to Luna. She could see the place that had once housed the goblin king. There had been a red-headed girl there, too.

She journeyed into the parlor room, where the crests of the family sat blazing by the mantle. Yes, there was Daddy's chair, as was custom. And her mother's right across from his. Those chairs were more looming than she recalled. True, in her real home, there had been magical-enhancing points to increase wand work and an invisibility booster in the arm rest, just in case someone unpleasant chanced by. And then the Intruder Booter. A sudden manifestation that would indeed kick said unpleasant person in unpleasant places.

"Really...a house," he said, stiffly. "I thought you'd have more imagination than this."

Luna was sad that he didn't have egg on his face...or anything else.

"Look, Tom, you have a new friend."

One of the cats from the kitchen had trailed him and lost its hat in its hurry. It pressed its paws against the invisible barrier. Then Luna remembered that he seemed to have a vendetta against cats. He raised his wand, pointing it at the cat. A shoe appeared and the pale cat burrowed inside it, only its ears sticking out.

"That's convenient," he muttered.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Are you daft? Now's the time for tea?"

"I was told to always offer tea to a guest. You don't like tea either, do you."

Luna was slowly getting the sense that Tom didn't like much of anything...except magic, and even that was being thrown further into doubt. She backed away, not liking what this house meant. If it was her mind, well...if he did anything drastic, she might...never be herself again. It was very hard not to scream.

"Ah, it finally dawns on you. The possibility of fully losing your mind... Let's review every option. You like being open-minded, if I know you...and I do now."

Her father was in his favorite chair, and before her eyes, he turned to dust, all the while begging to be freed. She paused for a heartbeat.

"You may need a nice pair of glasses. That's not my father."

"You're right. It was your father," he said firmly, convincingly as ever. "I captured him as he walked back to Hogsmeade, just for you. Let's be honest, _because_ of you."

"Tom, it's just...it's rather a poor likeness."

"Oh, so now you're selective about it.

"About what?" she asked, bewildered.

"Your beliefs."

"Well, when they're within reason."

At his blank look, she clarified. "Daddy likes using portkeys. He has one, his lucky one, that is a trigger. If someone were to attack him, they would automatically be portkeyed into the lake, my father safe and sound. Besides, like you placed him in my head while I wasn't looking...no, I don't believe it."

"...What if I had said I had written a letter under your name that was actually a portkey, then placed him in the book? And I had to endure looking at him for an hour, it's a flawless double."

"That would have been fair," Luna said, nodding. "Don't be too terribly hard on yourself. It would have worked, if I had not known about the portkey. It wasn't that bad of likeness, actually."

"That is his future," he said, determined to get the last word in.

"Yes. Dust, I guess. You know, that's one way to travel, and he can be part of the time clocks at the Ministry, and run them backwards. They would never know what to do then. He would be so pleased."

Luna kicked the stone that was behind her foot, and there was a small explosion that was under it today. She ran with surprising nimbleness, towards the tree that they had in their home.

"Where can you go in your own head? You can't run from yourself, you know," he said, from deep within the walls, from everywhere. "Little Ms. Weasley found out the hard way. And now you will too. I wonder if you can handle true madness, deal with tasting it. Watch your mind fall to pieces, as it is meant to. You allowed such a name on yourself. You might as well become it."

Now, Luna had never really held this long of a conversation with anyone outside her family. He did seem to have such a way with words. It was lovely listening to him but really...couldn't he say anything nice? The hazel tree had been in the family for generations, the one that she had laid under the day her mother left. She grabbed the lowest branch and pulled herself up. She glanced down, and saw him standing at the base of the tree. He gave her a nod, and pointed his wand at the tree. The tree remained un-scorched. Luna continued to climb, reaching the second story of their home. His eyes burned slightly in its stead.

"You'll have to climb. Daddy says it's good for the hea...oh, sorry."

He laughed and began to transfigure the branches into steps. That was how her mother used to cheat. And she had been looking forward to seeing him try to climb a tree. She'd bet he had never done so before.

"Careful of the smaller branches," she warned him, and then hurried to the next room. The moon had shone straight through the ceiling, forming a bit of a bridge. It was fun to slide on the moonlight. Luna hoped a cloud wouldn't pass by, and prepared to slide across to the other side. She laughed out loud, letting go, in body and mind, and a light, tingling sensation over took her, like a thousand butterflies fluttering to keep her in the air. As always, the ride was over too soon. She heard someone utter a very foul word. Tom was on the other side where she had just been, looking disheartened.

"What are you waiting for?" she called across. Her voice echoed. At the bottom, below the bridges, were mountains of tree words and they glittered and repeated her words again. He didn't want her to see him sliding on the bridges. It was rather...well, funny.

"If you were smart, you would run."

"I'd rather watch you," she replied, feeling confident and finally safe.

"Not particularly advisable...since I brought someone else along," he said, his eyes glittering. "Like a little friend I can keep in my pocket...wherever I go, she goes."

Luna shivered, and indeed, there did seem to suddenly be someone else nearby. She turned and fled, delighting him. Distantly, she heard all the silver tongued words clinking together, meaning he had bypassed the bridges without touching them. And there were some other words he uttered. A twisted hissing filled her mind, and the innocent shadows under the cushions became serpents.

Before she could shut the door, to protect herself, she had been bitten. A liquid venom coursed throughout her body. Luna had to lean against the doors for support. The next room was the room of the prophets. She easily spotted a pair of eyes underneath the old couch.

"It's safe to come out now. It's only me. Did he happen to pass through here?" Luna asked herself. The wide-eyed little girl, with a tie tied around her head during her earlier expeditions, nodded solemnly and pointed to the stairs. Oh, so he was down there, already. He rushes around too much, Luna thought. No wonder he's moody. "You should go outside. This sort of thing isn't for children, it's a button-lipped situation, remember what Daddy says. Hurry before it gets dark."

Lunette scrambled out from underneath the overbearing couch and zoomed away around a corner, arms outstretched. Luna headed for the stairs, tiptoeing around the scattered oracles and with her wand at the ready. He grabbed her from behind, by her soggy cloak and hoisted her into the air.

"This can be considered hexing and entering, you know. And I can keep up with you just fine. You don't have to carry me, Tom."

"Oh, but I want to. I've found something out about you, little bird. Everyone has that something that they covet and hide equally. It's time for show and tell, to get a good look, wouldn't you say."

"Everyone, including you?"

He scoffed.

"I already know you don't like your own shadow. I can understand. How it's always behind you, it's creepy. My shadow is a pinch more personable than yours, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. And you surely don't covet your shadow. I'm sad to say it's a tag along."

"Your overanalyzing is fruitless, I assure you...You got right to the problem, oh, how could I have missed it. I must make amends."

"Well, you could try not to neglect your-."

He clamped his handover her mouth. "I heard you mention a button-lipped situation. Best idea you've ever had."

Eavesdropper, she fumed. Fink.

"To think, this is where all your pointless musings come from. No wonder then, at your facades. And that little girl back there, cowering-."

She moved his hand away furiously. "Of course, she was cowering."

"I am going to take that as 'Of course, I was cowering.' That's what most normal people use when referring to themselves."

"Why didn't you hurt her?" Luna asked.

"No doubt it would destroy your mind utterly, and you would be of no use to me. You are mine now, you can feel that, can't you. More strongly than before, I have tapped into your magic. So...there was no need to kill the younger you." They came to the door that changed everything, just as easily as any alchemist's stone.

"I wouldn't do that," Luna whispered as he tapped his wand on the door. The light from underneath it, a pastel chalky color, burned brighter. That was the sound that was in her head, echoing as if she was in an aikea-guinea. He quickened his pace towards the door at the end of the corridor.

"Don't be a child and hide from your past. Change it."

And with that, the door flew open...

She awoke inside the closet, with the diary opened to the thirteenth. Luna couldn't remember at first, looking at the black book without an inkling of what had occurred. Then she stifled a scream, feeling the writing on her face.

She opened the door, and rushed to the stained glass, hoping to see herself as he had seen her, without discrimination, a mirror with no soul. If Hogwarts wasn't real, this Hogwarts, and he was in the shadows, and she would never tell what was real again. The book lay tossed to the side. He knew what was behind the door. He knew about her mother when she should know. Luna seized the book and pressed the quill roughly onto the page.

_Tom, what was behind the door? If you are able to, answer me. _

The stirring around her arm made her jump. Cecil had survived. He hissed from under her sleeve. She cautiously placed her fingers on the serpent's body, to reassure him, then got up, the book heavy in her hands. The snake bite on her ankle and the feeling that came after lingered, and she knew that things would never be the same. Once you've seen the inside of a human soul... How could she look at anyone without thinking of it?

Everything had a price. Luna left the classroom, wondering what to do with the book now. She had yet to learn what was behind the door, where her mother surely remained. If souls could last, where did they go? Where was her mother now? He must know. If she was to stop the attacks, she would have to keep the book, or tell Dumbledore. And if she told Dumbledore, she would never know the answer to her question. She shivered, feeling more alone than ever, and wished he would write. Someone blocked her way, and Luna stepped back, clutching the book tightly.

It was Ginny, her eyes blazing. Her voice, once one of promises and sunlight, sounded like some horrible poison being forced through a sieve. "Give it," she hissed, her tiny body shaking. "Give it back. Hurry, I can't..."

She would have said 'You don't understand. I have no proof if you run away with it. Besides, your soul is still inside it. I'll take it to Dumbledore as soon as I am done with it, I promise, and then this will all be over.'

"N-," was all Luna was able to say. Ginny had lunged forward, pushing her hard, and tearing at her fingers, trying to pry the book way, and it felt as if her fingers were about to break. Luna let go, and watched Ginny run down the hall. Her hair gave the impression of a fire that had finally flickered out.

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	7. Always and Never

Disclaimer: All characters you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, a reference to a flying lake is from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes. And there's a Shakespeare reference in there as well somewhere.

Author notes: Another shout-out to my beta reader, Mistress Siana, for her time and support. Thank you so much for helping me with this chapter and this story!

Chapter 7

Always and Never

Luna stood in the middle of the hallway. The serpent curled around her arm in what seemed to be a protective gesture.

"It's not your fault, you know. You're just in the wrong place, and there's really no time to speak of." She took him from her arm and looked at him closely, in the light provided by the torches.

"Poor Cecil," she said, soothingly. He was resplendent, with translucent shells from some ocean unknown. Love and its opposite dropped like stones into the waves. He was not quite the most natural serpent. The world could have worn him as a belt to hold it together if he had been a larger.

"Do you like your name?" His eyes shone, and his tongue tasted the air. "I'm glad you do. Snakes are very picky creatures. That didn't seem to be good, at all, did it? You're safe, though, you are lucky to be a serpent. Not a good time to be human."

She tried to pretend she wasn't. She was reminded of it shortly after, when the Grey Lady crossed her path. In her wake were voices, as if she were a line of ancient music that they could not quite get right. Whatever their intention, it was underlined by a consuming want. It followed her into the Common Room, and she sat in front of the fire, listening. Frankly, a bigger bunch of mumblers could not have existed.

In the portraits, there were faint hues of slivers of coins. They would appear in the eyes every third glance. Luna knew that Ginny would try to break free. She would do what Luna should have done. Now all she saw was Ginny's pain, and Luna felt it like a wound.

She had always had imagery friends. They never really questioned her, and though they had feelings, they were like the chirping of crickets outside her window at night. Something slid down her face, and she was surprised to see that she was crying. This was the first well of regret that had ever truly sprung within her, and she hoped for Ginny's freedom. Yet not for his end.

Her ankle burned, and she found tiny pinpricks that had turned a faint cinnamon brown. She didn't think Madam Pomfrey would have an antidote.

Luna remembered when she first heard the name Weasley nearly two years ago.

&&&

She had spent the night in the garden because the house was much too warm, and her father had not come out of his room. He couldn't stop writing. It was like watching Gully Ver's dam break or splinter, or the like. So she snuck outside.

Her mother was coming back, Luna had decided. She could have been asleep, just very deeply. She had seen a butterfly that had dropped, blown about by the wind. When she scooped it up in her hands, that it had been hurt but it had fluttered away. But for a moment, it had fooled her.

So Luna had resolved to wait for her mother's return. If her mother returned and found the door unopened, she might think that they didn't love her anymore. It was a fear that kept Luna very awake.

One day, she spied a small trail of dust rising from over the hill, and she hurried to the cherry-wood fence. It was a woman who excelled at bustling and whose hair was scarlet red. She was wearing a green shawl, and Luna thought she had eggs she was looking for. She wandered closer to the fence post, perching near the edge. The woman stopped and studied her and looked at the house, then back at her. Luna wanted to keep her distance to avoid being pecked to death. Yet all the red, you know, and this was about the time her mother would be waking up now. This woman was the opposite of her mother, so maybe her mother wanted to try something different.

"Oh, you're Luna, aren't you, dear?" the woman squinted and hugged her fiercely.

"Mother?" she whispered, cautiously, not daring to believe it, and the woman hugged her even more snuggly.

"There, there, it will be alright. Let me have a look at you," she said and after setting her firmly down on her feet, became to brush her off. Luna tried to grab her hand. "Now, where's your father? You aren't out here all alone, are you?"

"He's inside, up there. He won't believe it, but I'll make him. He hasn't spoken at all. Oh, he'll be so happy to see you."

"Well, it has been quite a while. I know this is a tragic time, but I've just heard and I wanted to see how—good gracious!"

They had entered the door and her mother stopped short. Luna lost her hand as it escaped to flutter up around her neck, as if trying to keep her heart in her chest. Luna supposed it must have been combusting in joy. There were papers stuffed every nook and cranny, with writing reprinted in scratchy handwriting. Notes of all kinds, one of a kind, you know

_Ministry: Sells Contaminated Experimental Items to those Who…_

Scratched through, hen pecked and continued in smaller writing below the bolded title.

_Sell Sea Shells, Shores optional. I moved mine, didn't help much. The bloody tide came in anyway_.

Luna's previous (and sometimes rejected) lemon cakes were left out, abandoned. The portraits had remained vacant, and the lights had faded since that night. The birds were jaded, thin-looking sacks of plumes. The house was a bit messy, Luna thought nervously. What if she left over that?

"Daddy says its creative disorder. Food for thought," Luna explained and promptly slipped on a spare bit of peel. Her mother caught her swiftly.

"And where is your father right now?" she asked, shakily.

"He's upstairs. In bed, actually. Do you want me to wake him, M-?"

"No, no, no need for that," she interrupted, eying the stairs as if there were dolphins or beasties. "He needs a good lie in. Let us go into the kitchen, see if the smell of a nice meal will get him up."

Her mother had come back.

"If your father doesn't…if he's still…resting, I'll take you back with me. Then Arthur can come and see if…everything's alright. Which I'm sure it is, but if he's been up there for a long time…How long has he, dear?"

"Five days."

"Oh, that's not ten, at least, is it." The spoons over-stirred and the cauldron slobbered on the floor.

"Is it King Arthur? Did you meet him while you were away?"

"Hmm, he's my knight, yes. I met him at school, bless him."

"Daddy would love to see him!"

"I do hope so. Like I said, it's been awhile. I regret it. They were good mates but after the war, things came apart. War brings out the best and worst of everyone, and sometimes the best is still the worst. You'll understand one day."

"I knew Daddy had been a knight. He's already been an Auror. Now he writes down his memoirs, aren't you excited? Do you think his Majesty would mind giving an interview?"

"Well, Arthur's a little leery of the press. They don't always post up to par. Public forums for open bias, is what it is."

"But…but that's not what…you think his paper is bad?"

"Oh, no! It's just the press was used so poorly during the war. False stories, stirred up horrible frights and panics."

"Why hello, Molly." His voice croaked with disuse.

"Artemus," she said, not looking at him. "I found your daughter outside in the garden."

"In my garden, I trust. Yours is across the village. But never mind that. What's such a difference of local amongst friends?"

"I've just heard. I'm so sorry, Artemus. She was a good woman," Molly said with sincerity.

"And an even better person, but that didn't stop them from killing her, did it."

"_What? _Are you trying to say—Do you mean to say you think it was intentional?"

"My wife was too exceptional of a witch to have an accident, Molly. You know that, and I know that. There were wards she placed on herself, in case something went wrong. Even the most potent of potions couldn't affect her, and…someone hurt her, Molly, and when I find out who, well, you know—who's to judge me?"

"Those papers on the wall," she said slowly, letting the flames lick the cauldron much too high. "You think it was the Ministry's doing? Artemus, I don't wish to speak ill of her, believe me. Not all her sources were from the Ministry."

"It doesn't matter who, I will find out, be that petty official or dark wizard. Please, have a seat. You're a guest in my home, after all. Tea?"

He moved the woman rudely aside. Luna stood stock still with shock, and Molly was the one to notice her first. "Luna, I have a little girl just around your age. The day's still young, and if you'd like to meet her, you can come back with me. After your father finishes the soup, which I see he is perfectly capable of doing."

"You aren't my mother?" she asked. Both adults froze this time, in stunned silence, which was shattered when her father dropped the bowl he was holding.

"Why doesn't she understand, Artemus?" Molly Weasley asked her father. "What have you told her? What sort of nonsense have you stuffed in her head?"

"Now's not the best time, Mrs. Weasley," her father said, brushing the shattered bowl under the cabinets with his foot. "As you can see. I'm sure we can take a rain check on the tea."

"This is your child! You carry on about conspiracies in front of her, pin it on the walls where she sees it all day long while you're hiding in your bed! The supposed murder of her mother! You allowed her to play outside in her night clothes, alone, where any sort of foul person could happen by and-."

"Well, let's not say anything we'll regret later," her father said dryly.

"I haven't," Mrs. Weasley retorted. "I'll see myself out. And I will be back here again tomorrow. And when I come back, tomorrow, I want to see your home clean. I want the writing off the walls. I want to see your daughter properly dressed. I-."

"You'll leave my daughter out of your coddling, Molly. Our friendship will be ruined if you come again. If you, or if Arthur comes here again without my permission and tries to turn my own child against me, there will be no chance to make amends."

"Turn her again-Artemus, she loves you. She trusts you and you're all she has left in the world right now. You are her world, don't you…"

"Enough. Not. Now, you-," he growled out, and Luna had never heard her father talk like that, and it scared her. "You've done quite enough," he said in his normal, cheerful voice. His story time voice. "Sincerest thanks for your help. I'll owl you a card about it, now please. Go."

Mrs. Weasley saw herself out, with one last look at Luna. Hurrying upstairs (away from her father who stood as if Petrified by the cauldron, which hissed), she peered out the window and saw the woman make her way up the path. The small trail of dust behind her dispersed with the wind.

&&&

During the weeks after, Luna had quite a few surprises.

One surprise included Cecil. Luna hadn't had many pets, and wasn't sure how to go about caring for a snake. She dressed him in a sweater for the cold weather, not to mention it was the only way she could keep up with him as he preferred to blend in to the sheets or stones. Also, the most brilliant thing about him was that he sensed her moods. When she was feeling down or more detached than usual, he would tighten around her wrist and when she was happy, he would be happy.

However, Luna did not know what Cecil liked to eat. He didn't seem to be going hungry or anything, but it unsettled her. She couldn't describe how glad she was when she woke up to an angry hissing and saw that Cecil had cornered a quivering fat rat on her dresser. She got up quickly from her bed, slipped on her slippers rather than in, and almost knocked over the entire dresser. Cecil eyed her, watching both the rat and the interloper carefully.

"There's a dreary snake I spy," she said in a sing-song voice. "Though he can't fly, he doesn't deal in lies and hates flies but loves to chew the fat with many a great rat."

Cecil sleepily agreed, and continued on his path of death. Luna took a few bottles and frames of the dresser and made a graceful exit for the rat. The fat thing seized it and dove off the dresser. Apparently he was aiming for her, his paws outstretched as if she was a cheese covered life-preserver. Luna stepped aside and the rat hit the stones with a smack that only called for Cecil to finish his snack as the snake slithered down the side of her bed.

"Better hurry, Mr. Rat, Cecil's gaining ground," Luna warned, observing the situation like a commentator. The rat seemed to shake its head and scurried towards Melissa's bed handing. To her great surprise, the rat climbed these said hanging with admirable agility.

"Why, it appeared the odds are now evens," she said, and Cecil looked grim, straining towards these hangings and giving up. "Cecil. Do you only want to have a closer look?"

Cecil's head bobbed up and down. Luna gave him a hand up, cradling him closely. "That's a rat but they normally aren't that fat. I do wonder how he's hanging on with his body mass, I would think he would sink down. He must have strong paws."

She held Cecil up to see, and the rat's eyes bulged. Cecil coiled up, which had always meant he was content, and suddenly sprung forward like a whip.

"Cecil!" Luna said, scandalized. The rat had performed a remarkable feat of aerodynamics, twisting in and out in the air, having escaped the jaws of doom by a nose hair. His landing needed work, however, and his swollen body plopped on Melissa's upturned sleeping face. Luna couldn't blame her for shrieking, but she couldn't forgive Melissa for backhanding the rat. The rat sailed away, his tail waving a feeble good day, and skidded under the dresser. Cecil was caught in the bed sheets and Luna fought to free him.

"What are you doing!" Melissa screamed.

"The small snake, I'm trying-," Luna began, and Melissa sprang out of the bed. Luna would have thought there must have been a Scathing Scallywag under her. Cecil's fangs were freed by her motion, and Luna cradled him. He had utterly blended in against her arm. Melissa looked at her bed, empty of any scale.

"You threw a rat on me," Melissa said disbelievingly. "What did I ever do to you?"

"It fell, actually. Your face has a great deal of surface area so there was a good chance it would land on you."

Melissa shuddered. "If it just fell on my fat face," she began angrily, "Then why were you standing over my bed?"

Luna thought that was simple; odd how people asked stupid questions. In Ravenclaw of all places. "I saw it and chased it over here. It scaled your bed hangings."

"Where did it go?" Olivia asked, her eyes scouring the floor. Eliza had already closed her curtains. Luna didn't want to tell because they might hurt him.

"Look, I won't tell Flitwick about this," Melissa said, still shaking. "But you…I know the rat was real because you, you put it on me…but you lied about the snake in my bed. Why?"

"No, I didn't." Luna held up Cecil, now a surly grey. Melissa covered her mouth, her eyes widening. Luna felt the room seem to pull away from her. "I'm very sorry. I know this seems odd but I am telling the truth. Here, feel him."

"Hey, leave her alone," Olivia said firmly, getting out of bed. "You've woken us all up, okay. Let me see it. " Olivia reached out, and Cecil squirmed out of Luna's grasp, his scales suddenly like fire. Olivia's eyes narrowed as her fingers confirmed what she saw, nothing.

"He slipped, I'll go find him," Luna said quickly.

"Don't bother. I don't know why you did that to Melissa, but if something as disgusting as that happens again, I am telling Penelope. You can bet on it."

And that was that. The night seemed heavy and scorching, and she shifted uncomfortably. Feeling bad about the misunderstanding, Luna resolved to let things calm down, keep her distance, then tell the truth again. She wasn't about to fib about it. From then on, she slept downstairs in the Common Room. The second surprise was a little more pleasant.

She had woken up late one day, had hurried down to breakfast, and beheld that troops of disgruntled dwarfs had overtaken Hogwarts, adorned with arrows that held pierced hearts on the tips. Yet no one seemed to care. They were taking it quite well, as a matter of fact. The girls looked downright giddy. One hostile fellow had twanged his harp at her menacingly as she had ventured forward to ask about his plans for the spoils.

"Go ahead. Ask me to do a little gig. I dare you."

"How about a big gig then?" she asked. He had taken it rather badly, and in the end, she walked away with a small red heart through her cloak and visions of cupids.

"This is a rather violent holiday," she commented to Cecil, ignoring the looks. Eventually she tired of pretending to be under siege, but no amount of pretending would silence the rapid fire of giggles around every cluster of girls that eyed the opposite sex like prey. The boys were like quail, scurrying alongside the hallways nervously. Luna was about to make a chart on the correlation between giggles and strategic retreats. This was war, obviously. It really didn't help that a troop of men in togas were bumping into people either. Luna loved it, fancying it the best day ever. She hadn't expected to get a Valentine, mind. There was a bit of relief in being just an observer to these rituals than a part of them. It happened in Potions.The small man had barged in, demanding to be heard. Luna was charmed.

"I have a Valentine for one Luna Lovegood." Luna was suddenly as un-charmed as a cat in a boiling cauldron. The class began to stir, looking over at her in unflattering disbelief. To her surprise, instead of kicking the poor, deluded fellow out, Snape nodded.

"Very well. Let's hear it," he said, his eyes lingering on her, and Luna considered fleeing or attempting to blow up the dungeon by throwing a jar of dragon boogies into the cauldron.

The dwarf cleared his throat and began the most atrocious rhyming Luna had ever heard.

"Oh, her eyes doest bulge so prettily,

Like a wilting toad on a moldy lily.

Eyeing flies, she's one to tell lies,

Maybe someday she will be kissed,

Though not by a prince, not by an inch,

But by an imaginary Bumkissed."

Well, Luna thought vaguely. Even the dwarf looked embarrassed, his voice faltering half way through. The class was divided between laughter and uncomfortable silence. Snape looked impervious to any embarrassment. He continued to watch her, his mouth forming a small sneer.

"You have a lovely singing voice," Luna said to the dwarf, speaking over the whispers and muffled hysteria. Don't hex the messenger, after all. Snape raised an eyebrow and the dwarf shuffled out. Luna spent the rest of the class not looking in Snape's direction, her mind fixed on other mediums, though the undercurrent was a steady stream of confusion and hurt. Needless to say, her potion was even more pitiful than ever. As the class ended, Luna rushed to gather her things but not quickly enough.

"I see you're still in one piece," he said. "And who should I thank for that favor?"

She didn't answer, pushing the last book into her bag.

"I would have mourned the loss of such a gifted student," he continued, his tone thick with sarcasm.

"Do you get many Valentines, Professor?" Luna asked. "I wouldn't think so. Is that why you wanted to hear mine?"

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Lovegood. Five for distracting my class, and another five for the cheek."

"Have a good day, Professor," she said, and walked out of the dungeon. She had rather watch and enjoy life than having supposedly dead dark wizards and professors harangue her.

Someone put their arm in her way at that moment, and her bag was lifted from her shoulders. Two Hufflepuffs from Potions had grabbed her things.

"What do we have here?" one, a stout boy with reddish hair, inquired. She had a feeling she knew what was coming, and she didn't want to face it. Not after the horrible experience with Snape. He began to paw through her bag, and the other boy, a bit shorter than his friend, waved his hand in front of Luna's face, further mystifying her.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" a small voice opined from the stairwell. Ginny Weasley had appeared on the top step, clutching her books and looking tiny but somehow very large. She glared daggers at the boy. "You give that back, that's stealing."

"Sod off, I'm not going to take it," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's just to see what she'd do."

"Well," Ginny said coolly. "Aren't you brave? Looks like she's ignoring you, by the way. You're not worth her time."

They slinked away, and left a flustered Luna behind. Not daring to look at Ginny, Luna bent down and tried to pick them up, only to drop even more supplies.

Ginny stood awkwardly to the side. "Do you need some help?" she asked, almost shyly. Picking up one of Luna's scrolls, she added, "I remember you from the train. Luna, right?"

She had omitted the Myrtle incident quite tactfully. "Yes," Luna said. "You were writing in your diary and worried about your sorting. The hat was right, you know. You are a very good Gryffindor."

At the heart of it all, Luna admired Ginny. She had mixed feelings, of course, because Ginny's the one that had taken the book away, had done what she had contemplated doing, and she liked Ginny for it. And just now, Ginny had protected her.

"I'm sorry, I just don't like bullies," Ginny said softly, handing her the scroll. "They reminded me of someone." For one wild moment, Luna thought Ginny was referring to her.

"Who?" Luna asked though she knew exactly who.

"Just someone I thought cared about me. I've never had someone want to hurt me before," Ginny said, then laughed emptily. "Never mind that. I've never had someone hate me before, and try to make me hate myself and hate them back. It makes me feel sick to think about it. I'm-er-I'm sorry about yelling at you that time."

"You were preoccupied."

"-Yeah. Something like that. I've got to go. See you."

"Ginny," Luna called to her retreating form. "If you think of anything, you can talk to me."

"Right," Ginny said. "I don't think anyone would understand. I need to deal with it myself. But thanks anyway."

"Well, there's always your diary," Luna said, hating herself but at the same time, needing to know.

Ginny grew cold. "Hah, I put that horrible thing right where it belonged. You know, this might sound odd to you, but there's no use picking things apart and trying to understand why. Sometimes there is no why, it just is. I tried to understand. It's like trying to save a drowning person, they'll pull you down with them. That's what I saw when I wrote in that diary. Speaking of which, I'm late for class. Bye, Luna."

She turned the corner and was gone, and Luna felt sick for the rest of the day. Yes, things could have been handled better. If Ginny hated her, Luna hoped she would confront her. The problem was that Luna had too many imaginary friends; she didn't want to be like him.

What's a soul made of, Tom?

Luna shuddered, and promised never again.

&&&

It was rare waking up to something twisting inside of you, and Luna sat up on the couch as quickly as a vampire would from a flaming coffin. She gasped, trying to gather as much air as possible, as it seemed she had nothing to fill her lungs.

Quivering, she held her middle. It was as if someone had kicked her. The common room was mischievously the same, unmoved by her pain. Luna stared into the shadows, because suddenly there were more of them. Luna realized in an instant that this was shadowboxing. Her shadow had become angered, and brought back a whole gang of them to intimidate her.

"You can try, you know. I won't have you any more. You've obfuscated for the last time, Obo. I see you clearly now, and will not be coerced!"

Luna grabbed her wand and said, with some smugness, "Lumos!"

It was then she saw the knight. It had been standing over her, right near the arm of the couch. Her wand light made its visage turn into a ghastly, knowing grin.

_I've heard tales about you. Did you really think I would let you stay here, after what you've seen? That's very unclean, don't you agree, and I beg of you…don't make me sully my sword. _

Something must have jumped into the armor, and made it move. Or maybe that's what it wanted, for her to take on the armor. Luna struggled with her wand, and Cecil hissed slightly, rising up slowly from his position on the arm rest.

"Um…I…it is most un-chivalrous to stare, Master Rustbucket. Go back to your post."

It didn't, merely stood with cold intention. Luna held out her arm to Cecil, and he wound himself around near her elbow. She clasped the knight's arm in a gentle, ballroom partner manner, and pulled it towards the opening as quietly as she could.

_Unsightly,_ the visor seemed to scream Or was that her reflection?_ When you charmed me aside before, I knew. Monsters, indeed. _

While she was sleeping, she could have inhaled far too much, and sucked the knight inside. No wonder Eliza and the others had not been sleeping well. They had been too busy clinging to their bed hangings. She put the knight in its place, huffing despite herself, and hurried inside. Where she was promptly assaulted as someone reached out and grabbed at her neck.

Now, Luna supposed fighting back was what one was to do when assaulted, so she did, imagining a battle of Titans, of epic portions. There was a flash of a wand, and she pushed harder, shoving her foe over the couch. The figure disappeared with an empty thudding sound. Oh dear, the Thugs have them now.

A head popped out behind the armchair. Ginny scrambled to her feet, and pointed her wand at the stairwell.

"Go on, scream. Scream and I will cut them all down, one by one, while you watch. Use your voice and hope it's still strong enough to plead your innocence to Dumbledore."

Luna felt an icy diggernelly tear through her. Ginny hadn't gotten rid of him, after all.

Now, it was much too real, she hadn't expected that. It had just been between the three of them. None else could know, for it would be common knowledge then. Then he would belong to everyone, wouldn't he? And that couldn't happen, she wouldn't let that happen. This was her crucible, her propriety, her right, and no one could ever take this from her.

"All right. All right," Luna heard herself say. "Please calm down. This isn't Gryffindor, you know. No one will venture down here."

"You would."

Luna shrugged offhandedly, "Well, I would be curious. Though if I had an exam in the morning, you might have had to wait."

He seemed to regain his dignity, and clasped both hands behind Ginny's back in the air of a judge. Ginny herself was completely androgynous at this point, like one of those worshipped from the past. Her neck held a laurel of red scratches that resembled thorns.

He moved around the room like a subtly burning flame of incense, bringing creeping oleanders in his wake. It was as if he was intimately familiar with his surroundings. As if he had been here often.

"Such a fair-weather friend you are," he said, after some silence which made Luna want to say anything to break it. "I am disappointed. I should not have expected…"

Luna had not realized that he considered her a friend, and she blinked. "Oh," she said. "But friends don't try to drown each other, do they?"

"That was the duel you so desired," he retorted, the words sounding somehow petulant from Ginny's lips. "You forced my hand. You did Ginny a great disservice. Do you have any idea what sort of stain was placed on her soul, not fully divided? You knew I had a piece, would always have that piece, and you allowed her to get rid of me. You used her. And keep using her, so I am told. Is she to fight your battles for you?"

Luna was horrified. "No, I didn't mean to…to hurt her. I really couldn't fight her off. She attacked me."

"Attacked you?" He gave her an odd look. "Surely, she couldn't harm you in that state?"

"She pushed me, actually."

"Ah, that's brutal. If that's all it takes to make you submit," he said dismissively.

"I didn't want to give you back to her, anyway. I would have figured out how to bind you and make you be nice," she spoke sharply, feeling a burning sensation on her cheeks.

"Really? You find me unpleasant?" he asked. "That's not the impression you left me with. Admit it. You liked it when I allowed you to find me, and when you fought with me, you enjoyed it."

He ran on finger over the side of the mantle slowly, and then gazed into the fire. "And bind me, you say." He paused, and Luna had the distinct impression that he was trying not to laugh. "So you want to possess me, then. I'd like to see you try…and I mean that. Try."

"Oh, I'm going to. When you least expect it too."

"What would a binding consist of?" he asked.

"Semi-colons," she answered. "They can snap into shackles, you know, and there would be spare colons for the guards. Oh you laugh now, but you'll see. And I don't want to possess you. You'd be a lot of trouble to tidy up after, I think. I'd rather like to stop you, Tom."

"Liar," he said, almost affectionately. "You seek to be different because that's all you've ever known. And I would bet having me in your pocket would satisfy you. Even by wizarding standards, you are special. I have quite an eye for special things."

"You're wrong about one thing, you know," she said. "I didn't enjoy making you fall through the ice. I was afraid you had drowned."

She had needed to clear that up right away. The Ginny-Who stared at Luna. Doubtfully. He won't, or couldn't, believe it.

"Where did you go?" she asked. "You know, when you were gotten rid of? Did you take a holiday?" Holidays were the best because there were always treats and tokens involved even when she herself hadn't really been on many holidays. Her father was a constant source of souvenirs from his travels. But Luna could tell this one had brought her nothing.

"It's of no importance," he answered, rather hastily. "A small, unexpected…gift. The end of the journey was much more pleasurable than the experience. Did you know that fate favors me? It must. I've exchanged words with him."

"To--you mean Harry, don't you? Ginny gave you to Harry?"

"Unwittingly, yes, but I've charmed luck itself it seems. I've seen him. I had him, within the pages of the book."

"And?" Luna prompted. "What did he have to say? I bet quite a bit."

"Nothing of merit," Tom said. "Nothing exemplary. He was inside the pages of my greatest achievement above countless wizards, and he merely took it in stride like it was an everyday occurrence…something silly and pointless in exercise."

"Like Quidditch," Luna assisted him. "But that's why I like it, you know, it's interesting to watch people willingly get hit in the head."

"Do you think the fool falls into footholds against death itself every day?" he continued.

"Well, he is the Boy Who Lived, Tom." Sometimes, Tom skipped right over the obvious.

"-To bore you into a catatonic stupor. Yes, there are similarities, but to look at him. You've seen him, he's just…a boy. A scrawny, runt of a litter boy, but a boy nonetheless."

"Did you speak to him directly, though?"

"No. I want to appear before him whole. Alive, while his life bleeds from him," he said softly, staring as if he could see his desires before him.

Well, goodness, Luna thought. He is single-minded.

"I think he'd be distracted, at that point. You could do something right now," she mused.

"The visage of Ginny Weasley strikes fear into the boldest of souls, I take it," he said dryly. Luna admitted he had a point there.

"Your visage isn't so frightful. I rather liked it."

"Many did. They always liked what they saw," he said, but he appeared to be mollified. "They rarely liked what came with it."

"If he's just Harry, then shouldn't you leave him be?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "There's more to it than what's on the surface of this. I have to know what went wrong. Out of everything I've strived for, to be brought down by an infant. At first, I'd assumed I would see the serpent underneath the flower of reputed good and greatness, and after all that, he's more along the lines of a field mouse."

Luna was quite afraid of field mice that could fit between your toes so easily, and hide in your clothes. She shivered. Come to think of it, Harry did look like an overgrown mouse, and she thought of exactly that, a mouse wielding a sword.

"Well, imagine. If you only ignored him. People seem to think of you two as one."

"As one?" He turned to her, with an alarming intensity for Ginny's small frame. "Explain," he said, in the form of a command, though Luna didn't mind. She was getting used to him now.

"For awhile…well, from what I've heard. I was born the year your other self disappeared. There was a bit of debate in the Ministry, concerning Harry. It seemed to have upset them that you were defeated by a baby."

Ginny's eyes narrowed, and she waited to see if he would interrupt. When he didn't, she continued.

"They thought like you, actually. That Harry had the potential to be an extraordinary dark wizard."

"To cut off the head of the serpent only to find that it had another."

"Oh, that's a lovely comparison, Tom," she said, filing it away for another time. "You see they wanted to confiscate him. As Daddy said, mold him into their way of thinking early on. Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't tell them where exactly he put Harry. There was nearly a public uprising, I think. Everyone wanted to see Harry. They couldn't believe, you see, without laying their eyes on him. I've always believed he existed, though. People wrote a great deal of books about him then, to make him real. They do that a lot."

"Well, of course they would, Luna," he said. "A world built upon superstition and force mixed together. Belief is the most powerful warden here. But the superstition is still in their minds, sowing seeds of resentment and mistrust. They are waiting for the great Harry Potter to fall. Perfect."

"Tom," she sighed. "Yes, you're quite right. But that's the point. If you came back, and ignored him completely…imagine! Harry would just be Harry. If you were to dismiss him, they would forget about what happened in the past, because the present would change the future. People are more mindful about the future tense than things of the past or present since."

He stared at her for a moment, considering. "My dear, you're so outside the box you can't understand what's inside of it. _I_ would know. I would always know. It would haunt my every moment. The past repeats itself. It's entirely cyclic."

"Then go absolutely linear," she said, getting excited about the direct of the conversation.

"You said if I recall correctly, what goes around comes around," he said smugly. And she flushed.

"But only if it keeps going in a circle!" she said, loving how the logic just kept putting itself together. How wonderful a game this is! "It has to have a path to go around, after all. If you walked entirely in a straight line, like this," she said, and she demonstrated. "Then there would be no circle. Honestly, you're chasing after Harry this time."

"I am not 'chasing' after Potte-."

Luna burst out laughing. A sudden picture of him as a black cat chasing Harry, a quaint mouse with spectacles, consumed her.

"Silencio," he said, in a causal tone. Luna was so amused she was nearly crying. He would resemble a male, a Mr. Norris, and perhaps Filch would happen along and adopt him. Mr. Argus Filch would save Harry by kindly adopting a Mr. Tom cat.

She waved her hands, mouthing 'I'm better now'. "Doubtful," he muttered, but lifted the spell.

"Oh, Tom. It seems you'll never quite manage to kill Harry even though you'll use all your lives to do so. You'll spend them all away."

"And why is that?" he said, softly, something Luna recognized as a warning. "He's nothing to me. The blame for my downfall had to be his parents, one of them at least. He, an infant at the time, did nothing."

"Yes, and if that's all it takes, when you do everything, and he does nothing, he'll keep living. You should do nothing, and then he would do something, and the whole pattern would change. I do wish you would, actually."

"I will not allow anyone to believe that boy is more powerful than I. He will be dead, at my feet, by the end of the year."

"The whole incident sounds like it could have happened to anyone," she said quietly. She had no experience with babies, after all. They could be quite fierce-some for all she knew.

"I have yet to even…even understand the point of attacking that child. I can barely recognize myself. Through all my research, I can barely fathom the use of it." He looked away, and she felt a little sorry.

"Cecil missed you," Luna added because everyone should be missed after a holiday.

"It survived the transition process? That would be nearly…. Let me see it."

"And _he _has something he wants to say to you. About Ginny, he's not pleased about it in the least, and he's of the opinion that you should leave her alone. We've talked it over and that's his position. I'm afraid he won't budge."

Luna unfolded her arms and gently coaxed Cecil off her arm. She tapped the wings she had sown onto his sweater and they sprang to the air, taking Cecil with them. He floated along, despondent, and in Luna's opinion, somewhat melodramatic. The snake was selling her out. Tom looked amazed, despite himself, and he reached out to take Cecil down from his middle-air tour. Yes, Luna felt confident that Cecil would echo her sentiments and possibly present a more convincing argument than she could.

His expression turned to bemusement, however. "What has she done to you?" he muttered in English before sliding into a series of strange hisses. She wondered what they were talking about, or why it made her stomach knot up when she heard the hissing coming from Ginny. She crept forward to listen carefully, trying to uncover the thread underneath the language.

"Tom," she whispered. "Would you please teach me?"

He paused, and said, with some pleasure. "You refused to learn anything from me, remember."

Luna saw left over tears on Ginny's cheek and wished she could wipe them away. "Serpents can see into the future, if the occasion is right. I'm sure you've heard the myth about the serpent and your namesake. I'll tell you in time. It's ironic, really, that you should be the one to seek me out."

"You make me a bit concerned, Tom," she said, almost against her will.

"Only now?"

"I thought you were in dire straits for some time…"

"And you never looked for me," he finished, in a knowing way.

"Actually, I did inquire about you. I asked Ginny what had become of her diary. She said you were where you belonged. I didn't know where that was, exactly."

He tensed. "That girl is finally beginning to try my patience," he said darkly. "She will regret her insolence. If she revolts against my tolerance, she will suffer under my wrath."

"Tolerance?" Luna intoned. Tom really has some difficulties with some words, she had noticed. "Might you have a dictionary on hand?"

He seemed startled, and very nearly angry, but something also seemed to trouble him.

"…Pure-blooded wizards don't have dictionaries. I found that out when some idiot in my house kept confusing the counter to Legilimency as illegitimacyI thought it was a joke until I discovered he was serious. So you aren't a pureblood after all?"

"Oh, my dictionary is my most favorite possession. My mother suggested it. I had a habit of calling people ignoramuses. I liked the word, you know. I'm not sure about pureblood, though. I suppose so."

"You…suppose so," he repeated disbelieving. "How can you not know?"

"I've never thought about it," she said simply.

"I'll find out," he said, just as simply. "Because there's something very odd about you."

"If you'd like," she said. There was some suspicious tittering on the stairway, and Luna turned to see her dorm mate, Eliza dressed in her nightclothes, framed in the doorway, staring at her like she had some sort of infectious disease.

"Do you mind talking to yourself a little more quietly, Loony? We're trying to sleep."

"But I'm not talking to myself," Luna said desperately. Even though Eliza could be cut down, she pressed on. "Don't you see him? Oh, that's very confusing. That person to my left, then."

"No, I don't. That's just air, okay," the girl said, with a hint of pity, and she made her way back up stairs.

"You did that on purpose, Tom," she said, feeling hurt. He shrugged. "Are you really here?"

"You almost got her killed," he said, smiling darkly. "If she had believed you, even for an instant, she would have had to die. Why did you do that, Luna?"

"I don't quite know," she said, suddenly frightened again. She really had no idea. It hadn't been intentional, it had been a need. He looked at her appraisingly.

"I have something for you." Ginny dug through her pockets and pulled out the diary. By now, even though he had made no real attempt to attack her this time, she expected to get hurt. She touched the pages.

He stood by the doors of the Great Hall. He looked painted by sheer magic, as usual, but she felt a little more intimidated by him this time. She was nervous, actually, and her arms felt ridiculous by her side, and she was far too short. He stepped forward and offered her his arm. She looked at him, confused.

"They don't let you out much, do they," he said, but took her arm and quite inexplicably, she found herself intertwined to him, linked by her arm around his. Her breathing quickened, to her astonishment. She didn't have time to examine her foreign feelings, for he had guided her into the Hall.

In this place, it looked even more magnificent. It was humming with content power. The ceiling did not show a blissful blue sky, but was lined with slightly ruby clouds and an inky night sky. And, in this case, the sky was looming overhead _threateningly _instead of pleasantly co-existing with the diners in the Hall. Luna was distinctly amused at the drama of it all. Cecil definitely gets the trait from Tom, she decided. She snuck a glance in his direction, and got the impression she was supposed to be awe-struck. For his sake, she quivered.

"This is all very ominous and foreboding, Tom," she said. "I particularly like the red clouds. Aren't they lovely?"

"Never noticed them," he said casually, and she felt silly for indulging him. How could he not notice when he put them there, she fumed, and quickly wiped any traces of awe off her face. She did note, however, that there was a fine line of food on the table nearby. So…his hobby was cooking? Well, he did always speak in quarter of truth and one third undiluted fabrication, with sprinkles of malice. He must be very good, indeed.

"Oh, you've left food out. To lure something inside?" she asked.

"If that something is you. You haven't been eating."

"You made all of this…for me?" she repeated, not bothering to keep the disbelief out of her voice. He nodded, ushering her to the table. She lowered herself cautiously onto the seat, and was surprised when he took a place right beside her.

"This is very nice of you. Are you well?" she inquired. He smiled, and Luna couldn't help but notice how handsome he was when he did that. She wished he would stop it; at least until she figured out the problem at hand. "What's wrong with it?" she demanded, pointing to the pickle pudding, her favorite dish.

"Nothing at all. Your imagination is running away with you…" He glanced at the food. "However, I'm not positive if that's edible."

"Oh, it's serendipitous! Do try some," she said, forgetting her suspicions and pushing the plate towards him.

"You must be kidding." He pushed it back. "If you are under some delusion I would indulge your follies in such a lowly manner, you are mistaken."

"It's much better than it looks. Actually, if you won't eat what you made, why would I want to?"

"How childish."

"How suspicious."

Tom scowled. "If I…sample this concoction, you will eat without having to be further…persuaded, right." Luna nodded, though she would have eaten everything without assigning him this task.

He studied the food as if it was his worst enemy; mentally dissecting it, and plotting avenues of attack. Really, Luna thought he was projecting a tad. Suddenly, so swiftly she would have missed it if she had blinked; he sampled the food, with a completely stoic facade.

"It goes best with onions and frog eggs," she said quickly, and there, his eyes widened. Luna began to eat without hesitation and sipped her tea.

"I would loathe to be a prisoner of yours," he commented, still stoic, but Luna felt satisfied. "One would face starvation."

"Well, you are a quite wonderful cook, Tom. That's a bit impractical, though." She pointed at the black-flamed candle. "If it's dark, how would you find it?"

"It's not for giving off light," he said softly, and smirked in a way that made the candle look stark white by comparison.

"Oh, good. Imagine _that _on your bed side table and then trying to reach out for it. You're apt to get a burn that way. But anyway, you haven't eaten at all, except that one bit. Aren't you hungry?"

"I have little need for food now. But unlike myself, you do."

"How did you know? I mean, I haven't been to the Hall as of lately. I've been busy."

"Doing what? Or do I want to know?"

"I suppose you do, or you wouldn't have asked, Tom," she said, smiling lightly. "I've had more thoughts than usual, I suppose. I forget sometimes."

"And you aren't simply afraid of sitting with your house?"

"Why, no. Honestly, I don't sleep that much either. Have you ever felt that way?"

"Yes. It's understandable. I just wasn't sure. I'm glad that fear is not the case."

"But how did you know?" Luna pressed.

"I can tell by looking at you. It's not a mystery. Instead of starving yourself, you should find something to preoccupy you long enough so you can focus later. I used to walk off…" he stopped himself.

"Do you like walks?" she asked, seizing the idea with fervor. "So do I."

Luna looked out the windows and even though it was terribly, blindingly dark, she had the urge to stretch out her legs. The power of suggestion, she thought. "I'm finished. Would you like to go outside? You know, with me?"

"…I haven't seen the outside of this incarnation of Hogwarts," he mused. "There is no clear way to predict what's out there."

"Oh, it's an adventure," she said, and stood, taking a few tea bags just in case. "Shall we be off?"

He drummed his fingers on the table, in his own way of thinking, of being, she supposed. Then he rose slowly, and she placed her arm on his, mimicking his earlier motions. The library was closer to the Great Hall, she noticed on their way, and it did seem to be swollen with books.

"How do you store all of that in your brain, Tom?" she asked, awed.

"Ah, my memory is relentless. I always remember. My first recollection is I never…I was able to read at a very early age. They called me gifted…They had no idea."

"They, Tom? Your family?"

"Hardly," he said, looking suddenly aloof. "Unless your family fears you. In that case, we were the perfect family."

"Oh, they probably just had trouble expressing themselves," she said, though secretly she suspected he was being honest. "Where…and when are you from exactly, Tom?"

"The where is so minor compared to when. I made this diary in 1945."

Even though she knew he was somewhat old fashioned, this date did stun her when vocalized. As did the willfulness, the pure determination, and the focus such an endeavor would require.

"I don't know if I could do that," she said. "You know, stay in one place that long."

"Don't misunderstand. I traveled in my time, to places that weren't even supposed to exist. Well, if one followed popular opinion and taboos, they weren't. Time, here, literally flew by. Though now, yes, it's become tiresome. You wish to leave the real school behind, then, and embark on your own trials?"

"I have to finish school," she said, in the voice of a doomed person waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel.

"There are such things as self-taught witches, Luna. Some of the most talented witches in centuries learned on their own, and through their experiences."

"What about you, though, Tom? You went here, and I've heard you are quite good at magic."

"Like I said, my dear, I sought the forbidden knowledge." Now, she was just plain curious. "Yet it does require reading."

"I can read," she said excitedly. "I hear things already too."

They had reached the main hall which was remarkably different from the version Luna was accustomed to. It seemed to be more in the style of the inside of a jaw, except a stony version.

"Besides the obvious, what do you hear?"

"In a moment. I don't want to spoil your maiden voyage to the courtyard."

He sighed. "Never use the word maiden again, Luna, at least not concerning me."

She looked at the doors and suddenly got the feeling that an excursion might not have been the best plan. "I would be just as pleased to do crosswords with you."

"It's much too late for mere word games, my dear. You've made me curious. What would the outside of a replication look like, in this sort of crucible?" And with that, he pushed open the doors. Luna had the odd sensation of floating, or the castle was. All there was to see was an abyss. Even Tom was surprised, she could tell by the tension in his shoulders. She crept closer.

"This landscape is wonderful for the claustrophobic," she said, looking at the bright side. In fact, she could actually make something out in the gloom. And the perfect canvas for a trap she thought.

"It's not land, or air, and there is no escape," he whispered to himself. "Could it be in essence a mirror?"

If it was a looking glass, Luna was determined to put her plan into action. Tom grabbed her collar half way in, but she slipped away easily enough. It was a silent tumble, with waves of warm and cold washing over her. Her feet hit a tangible ground. It was a path. She could see Tom, framed in the doorway with light streaming around him yet he could not see her. He was in the only source of light in this not-quite night. It was more negative than night.

"Tom," she called. "It's all right. There's a patch of land right here."

He gazed in her direction, following the sound of her voice, and after some hesitation, walked outside to join her.

"I see now. This isn't land. It's a form of chaos magic." It looked very orderly indeed, however, and Luna frowned.

"Well, there's trees and flowers and oh, there's a plaidberry bush, and you're standing up to your knees in a marsh."

He looked down. "Kind of you to point that out," he muttered, and wadded a bit before reaching the dry land she was on.

"I would hurry, Tom, who knows what could be in there?" Come to think of it, she did see some sort of jagged shapes darting around under the reeds.

"Don't even think about i-Stop that!" He quickly pulled himself up quickly, as one of the shapes brushed his leg.

"I don't think it speaks English."

He suddenly grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him directly. "You do, and you're the cause of all these manifestations. And I suppose you're thinking of trying to bind me with grammatical structures, or send schools of piranha after me, but I'm the source of all this magic you're using, and if you dare try to harm my person, you will regret it. Do you understand? Now, shall we continue an otherwise pleasant evening?" he inquired, in a different tone.

"I apologize for the state of your trousers, Tom," she said, noting that up to his knees, there was a fine coat of mush and mud, and an unaccounted for shoe. "I didn't know."

"Right. More words I don't want to hear with my name in it. No matter. There's no harm done. Would you mind creating a better path?"

"I really don't know how. I wasn't controlling any of it earlier," Luna said, nervously and wringing her hands. What if her mind stuttered?

"You seem to be a natural. I'm confident I can hold it if you slip up. But don't do anything drastic, like an attack of marshmallows or anything. Be reasonable, if you can manage it."

Luna started to think of a pleasant little path and a nice little glade. The tower came, of course, from the very back of her mind. The tower she had seen with the lightning and the red eyed windows. It spiraled up to their far left, with the forest flanking the tower. She thought there was a need for some light, so she told the planets to get a bit closer, and they gathered around, politely at attention.

"Does someone live up there?" he asked, looking at the tower with apprehension. The tower's eyes flickered, like light from the gaping mouth of a jack-a-lantern, and it stood firmly against the surreal background with threatening reality. It even seemed to move. "Is it you?"

"That's where you live," she answered. "I made you a house since you're homeless."

"That's…actually a very…" He seemed a bit awkward. "It's a charming sentiment even though the thing appears to be on fire."

"Oh, that's the light from the Christmas tree."

"So the tree caught, did it, oh dear," he said.

"And you'll have people cook your meals for you and make your bed. And all the friends and family you need. Do you want to see?" she asked, taking his hand and trying to pull him along.

"They come built in now," he smiled, and she was pleased to see that was actually a real smile. Not his fake one, but the real deal. "Perhaps it's best to leave it be, Luna."

"What, why?" she asked, somewhat hurt. "Don't you like it?"

"Of…" he paused, and studied her for a moment, eyes flickering over her expression. "Of course I do. What's not to like, a working furnace and servants, and a great view I might add." He touched her face lightly, a touch so distantly separate from the first one it could have been from another person's fingers. He seemed to be casting around for some excuse. "You see, I believe I do live there, in your mind or heart, or wherever this may be. And if I go and see, I might come out, and defend my propriety. I never like others to touch what's mine, and going to see would be trespassing. That might induce an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved, don't you think?"

It did make sense that he would be the type of person to yell at himself, and that was a sight she did not care to witness.

"Okay, Tom. Would you like to visit the glen?"

"Splendid idea."

He took one last look at the tower, its tall, skeleton-like figure looming against the skyline, and she said, "The exterior does suit you well, if I do say so myself."

"More than you'll ever know. Now, what is nefarious about this glen of yours?"

"Nefarious?"

The glen was silvery and translucent, and seemed to be straining to remain compact. The tall grass did move, pushed by all forms of things that bumped around and there were plenty of holes that fell forever, a reminder to the unwary. There was the sound of continuous raindrops and hollow echoes and footsteps that broke the reeds, though none apparently were. All fragments of the past and future were present, not including unfortunately, the actual present.

Even though Luna would disagree, Tom was quite right to call it nefarious. She saw the movement in the grass, and she couldn't resist chasing after it, with her net, and while she did so, he remained hovering near the edge of the glen, amused and alert.

"Tom," she said. "I seem to have lost my bearings. And do watch out for that empty-."

"Space between your ears. I've already been well acquainted with that," he retorted, and she didn't want to bother again. She stared around her, because everything was slowly becoming vague. A hand took the net away, and Luna saw that it was his.

"What are we looking at here, exactly?" He gestured towards the net, and she shook her head, discouraged. He bent down to place the tiny net aside, and Luna took the opportunity to introduce herself to the ground, wanting to stay put, no matter what he commanded or willed.

Then Tom did the unthinkable. He sat as well on the ground, the uncovered, dirty ground. Moreover, she knew he really didn't like the dark, of any kind, yet he had followed.

"Tom, you don't have to pretend to be nice. I don't mind, really."

He gazed into the sky, filled with an alarmingly close version of Saturn. "You'll find that I never do what I don't mean. Who was that girl earlier? The one who called you Loony?"

"Eliza Wordsworth. She thought up the name for me. Why?"

"And these voices you mentioned? What of them?"

She froze, looking into the reeds, afraid to tell lest he think her a little off. But she was bothered by their existence, as they barged their way into her thoughts without apology or tact.

"Well, after you opened that door in my head, I started to hear voices, particularly after a ghost would cross my path. I can't quite make any of it out. It's starting to be a ruckus, and I keep thinking someone will hear and blame me for it."

"Ah, merely echoes. It happens after seeing soul magic."

"You hear it too?"

"I should hear it. I never did, though others before have claimed to. I suppose they are real, after all. They'll fade over the months, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"Thank you," she blurted out.

"For what?"

"For…for believing me."

"I can always tell when someone lies to me. It's not about anything other than that. You weren't lying," he said. "I can see that too, that part about you. You underestimate your ability to be convincing. I could make anyone believe anything I wish them to, if I do say so myself. It's a particular talent of mine, and do you know how, dear girl?"

Luna shook her head, desperately intrigued.

"I act interested in them. May I express my astonishment at you even knowing your housemates' names? That is where you fail, you are so enchanted by your own little world, you don't consider any other. And people love to be noticed. You don't actually have to care, just make them think you do. You let them tell you everything about themselves, be the sympathetic ear and show them your similar woes and tastes. Then you believe, for a moment, every word you utter, they will believe too, if it suits their needs."

"Do you tell on yourself often?" she asked, put off. He stopped talking. It was funny, the way he appeared utterly caught. "Oh, come on. You just exposed your plan, Tom." She threw some upturned reeds at him. He caught one nimbly.

"Well, you're the exception, Luna."

"How do I know that? You don't know anything about me, really. Like where I'm from, even though I asked you, and-."

"Ottery St. Catchpole," he answered, without hesitation.

"Hah! Only recently, Tom!"

"Then my apologies," he said. "Where are you from, then?"

"We had a home near the shores, you know, but we decided we wanted to move. We couldn't leave the lake behind, anyways, so we waited a bit; then mother came up with the best idea. You know how geese and different birds come to sit on the water? Well, we froze the water really, really quickly, and all their backsides got stuck. They started to flap and we jumped on, with all our bags. They lifted the lake right up."

"Your mother froze animals in a pond?"

"Well, no one was hurt, and we fed them pieces of bread from our picnic. We played charades, and ice-mice slides, and my parents danced a bit like it was a ball, but I don't like dancing that much."

"What are ice-mice slides? I've never heard of that."

"You slide on the ice, and tuck your head under your arms like you're a snow mouse. You can go through tunnels too, but I didn't want to try that in mid-air. When you're whole again, would you like to try it?"

"Perhaps. And the Ministry didn't mind this flying lake escapade?"

"We were rather invisible. It's not fair though, because we did get fined for it. But see, you didn't know that."

"I know enough. Like how you often look away for a split second before looking anyone in the eyes. It seems like your eyes are dazed, but you're really looking over someone's head first. Your ears get red when you're frustrated, and even though you wear blue most of the time, to an absurd amount, I believe you're more partial to orange and yellow. You spend most of your time making things because you want to have some control when you have nearly none. And speaking of pretending, I don't think you're as mad as you want people to think you are. I don't know the reasons for why quite yet. I will shortly. And you don't like to dance, but to be fair, you just told me that.

Luna felt slapped but in a good way…and it should not have been good. She wasn't sure if she had desired anyone to get that close. Nothing was absolute, ever. Her being so transparent, moreover his attention to her, was frightening.

"Did I miss anything? Your true passion being bowling or knitting or something? Hmm?"

He poked her in the arm with the net. She had the sudden urge to flee, ready to spring away to a far distant land where no one knew her name.

"Now, now, don't run away just yet. I'm not finished. What were your plans after Hogwarts? I admit I haven't the faintest clue what that would have been. Hopefully not clinging to Daddy's coattails,surely not."

She calmed her shaking, by pure will, and said, "I've…after facing you, I want to be an Auror."

Tom laughed. "Oh, you're serious? I think you'll need a bigger net."

He tapped her on the head with that horrible net, and she tried to grab it and missed, only to find herself fully tapped under the netting. "See? Don't struggle. You'll only make it worse. I'll free you in a moment. Like I'd keep you in such a shoddy cage…Now let's _pretend_ that you want to be something that has absolutely nothing to do with any other soul. Not with me, so that scratches out your Auror profession. Nor with your dear, dotting father, with marks out your journalistic endeavors. What would that be?"

She cast around for any scant career. Tom mimicked looking at a watch on his wrist and yawned. Luna was starting to become angry.

"You know, I would be an Auror anyway. I'd see people like you, whether you exist or not, there would always be bullies. I know what it feels like, when people stare at you so coldly and do horrible things you can't understand, and I-I would want to stop them."

He hooked his fingers through the netting and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "I would not advise it. Simply put, you can't stop yourself from being bullied. One who can not help themselves can not help others. And I was _tolerant_ of you during our little play time. Did you know that during my career advising charade, I was prompted to be an Auror."

"You! That's funny. They didn't know you very well, did they, Tom?"

"Oh, I made sure of that. The offer is not really that surprising since I was at the top of all my class. How are your marks, Luna?"

"Well, you've been quite a distraction. By the way, I vanquished you in the duel."

"You find this defeated? Who's trapped here? After you claimed to be able to ensnare me, it's strange that you're the one under the net."

"Then…I did badly?"

"You did better than expected."

"And you let me go," she said, smiling at him through the ropes.

"No," he said sharply, whipping his head so fast in her direction she was sure it had to hurt. "I did no such thing. The mark on your ankle. Think about it."

"Oh, yes, that did sting a bit. You don't have to worry about being lenient any more. I'll study harder and become an Auror, and then you won't have to hold back."

He gained that appearance of the solemn stone idol. He removed the net. It scrapped over her skin and caught her nose but still, it was better than being under it.

She would have to find a better, friendlier way to entrap her creatures. No wonder she could never find them. As she embraced her freedom, she realized that this was the best game she had ever played in her life.

Water can erode stone, Luna thought. Sometimes it had to be frozen to do so. Of course, that meant getting closer and having patience. He had a head start on her. She would have to catch up. Tom held out his hand, and she took it.

"Would you like a change in scenery?" she asked, and the ground turned an orangey-pink and in the distance, there were a fine collection of rings. Saturn often liked to hula-hoop, so she couldn't forget the rings.

"Actually, I would prefer more familiar settings. It's time for you to go back. Your housemates would miss you so."

"Am I gone completely? Or is my body still hanging somewhere?"

"It's there. If anyone tries to wake you, you will be taken back instantly. Do you mind if I accompany you instead? I'm somewhat old-fashioned."

"Are you sure you just don't have something else to ask?"

"I noticed you were surprised at being taken seriously at all," he said, without preamble or apology. "Does your father believe the things you say, or is it just his way of not having to deal with you?"

"Sometimes he doesn't," she replied. "I had someone…I had someone I used to play with a long time ago, before mother died. He was real, you know, not like the others who came to me. They both just ignored him. No wonder he got angry and left. Then there's the mole man last summer who broke grandmother's statue, and Daddy blamed me. He told me I had to grow up and that he was worried that he would have to do something about it. I suppose take me to the sick place, because it sounded like he thought it was a disease. He made me a big breakfast in the morning, like it never happened."

"Describe him for me, this mole man."

"He's short, and squat, and drippy. I wanted to take a picture. I took it from the window, you know. He might not have been friendly or camera-shy, as they often are. He saw me. He opened the door downstairs. I know my house very well and he couldn't find me. I thought it was rather funny at first. Then he kept coming, every night, and I would have to hide. He broke the statue by accident, I think. I came out from behind the family portrait to find out what that sound was. Daddy did wake up, then, and he was very upset."

"And he didn't take your word for truth when you showed him the picture?"

"I was in such a hurry that the picture didn't turn out," she said.

"Yes, that sounds about right for you. Though..." He looked slightly annoyed. "Your father should have taken your account as the truth rather than a delusion. Your bald little friend, though mole men are quite prevalent in your garden I'm sure, is an Animagus who apparently doesn't want his identity discovered. You clearly attracted the attention of a man who has something to hide and is desperate to keep it that way. If his form is small, then he could have followed you, you know. Hogwarts is not a sanctuary. Obviously."

"But the train is a far ways off, and we had to Floo."

"Oh, don't be naïve. He's small enough to hide under the seats or a pocket, and get across the lake undetected. In fact, now's the perfect moment to act."

"Because of you?"

"Yes, exactly. He could 'frame' me, you see. However, you are an unlikely target, and he might be afraid of running into me in the halls. If his form is anything to judge by, he seems to be spineless. But desperate, and that makes him a liability. I think I can draw him out."

"Oh? Is that a good plan, if he's so very upset? Besides, I don't care for him to find me, if he is at Hogwarts. He might have missed my Sorting."

"You think he is a threat to me?"

"No. I'm just a bit worried about myself."

Tom stifled a laugh, and Luna, on this rare occasion, could see the humor in the exchange.

"I'll watch you closely. Nothing will happen without my allowance."

"That's the difficulty."

"I give you my word. Nothing will happen to you, not from that pest."

"Tom, Cecil cornered a large rodent in my room some time ago. You don't suppose that was him in disguise?"

"…It could have been. Yes, that sounds right. A rodent would be the ideal shape for hiding. Rats lurk in the lower levels of the castle, and I had never seen one in a dorm. Why, you had a late night visitor. Perfect. Did Cecil make a meal out of him?"

"No," Luna said. "I thought it best…I let him go."

"Well, more fun for me. He's already found you. He's gotten close, and he's bound to try again unless Cecil's presence discourages him. Then he'll wait for you at your home where your father doesn't believe you. Maybe under your bed or behind the closet door." He grinned at her, and she shuddered. "Killing both you and your father wouldn't be out of the question for him. Think about how surprised he'll be to find me there instead. You will have your camera ready this time, won't you?"

"But what if he really, truly, sincerely is a mole person and we inadvertently started a war? One can't go around killing delegates. That would lead to tension, you know."

"I have a way to prove it. Let's assume that these mole beings have particular joint formations. For digging, correct."

"Yes, I saw his hand in the light. He only had four fingers."

"All right then. I'll just take my time and cut off one of his fingers. If it grows back, I'll be forced to concede that it was indeed a mole person and let him go. If the digit remains a bloody stump, he will wish that he was a mole."

She started. That sounded much too harsh. "We'll see," Luna said. "He might tell us if we asked nicely."

"Oh, I have quite a few questions for your secret admirer. But he's the one who'll be saying please. Would you show him mercy after his attempt on your life?"

"You don't know that he was going to kill me, Tom. I never said he was going to hurt me," Luna began. "He could just be a lonely, mottling soul and needed company."

"Right. A man who has done enough in his life to prefer living as a rat is above hurting you. I'm sure you're spot on, but I'm going to handle this my way. You'll just serve him tea and biscuits. Then his massive weight gain will be enough to defeat him, how silly of me."

"I most certainly would not. I would take a proper picture this time."

They were at the doors of Hogwarts and he brushed her head lightly with his hand.

"There was dust on you. From Saturn," he said, at her questioning glance. His fingertips were reddish pink and purplish parsley.

"You don't like me, do you?" she asked, half afraid of the answer. She shouldn't care if he hated her but for some terrible reason, she did. Very much so.

He looked at his hands, and then at her. "I like you more than most. I can always tell, you know, like I said. That's both the key to survival and a curse. And you never lie."

He looked at his hands again, seemingly fascinated. "Always and never," he spoke softly.

She could feel the night melting into her skin and becoming one with her, or her with it. On the surface of Saturn, she noted that there was only one track of footprints. She would have thought he would be scared of her, now that she had become one with the darkness. Instinctively, he would sense the change in her eyes, her mouth, and body. Dust from Saturn was only the beginning.

He did not detect it, and Luna was glad, and sad, that she was to bear the night alone. Always and never. Sounds like two sides of the same galleon, Luna thought. Never reaching the other or the middle but connected forever.

"You were right," she said suddenly. "About my father. But I love him, you know. No matter what, I love him and he loves me. We just can't connect anymore, is all." She realized she was wringing her hands together compulsively, and she stood, forcing them to hang by her sides, like broken, pale birds. "The stories are his way of talking to me. I know that, I'm not stupid. I didn't understand it at first. It's still hard to understand, actually."

"One can't grieve for fictional creatures, my dear. Even insanity would be better than emptiness," Tom said.

"But if one theory could be real—if one thing could be real, he would be real too. He would believe again. It's worth it anyway. Even if he just deals with me," she explained. "But there might be something that you can't explain away. Just because no one sees it, doesn't mean it's not there. You wish and wish until it's real inside you, because of you. Well, I'm right anyway."

"What a way to end a speech," he said. " 'I'm right anyway.' I've never thought of that approach before. I should try it. On second thought, I probably have."

He made his way down the halls, and she followed him, still stinging from her own words and even more so from his humor. Something brushed her ankle, and she looked down to see…

…and it was gone in an instant. But it was true. She looked at his back, wondering. She had the funny feeling of being very Muggle-like for a moment; was this how it felt to have someone hold power over you? Odd, how magic is used. When you were so powerful and large, you couldn't help to squish some bugs and grass. Then was magic, at the heart of it all, bad?

"Are you clumsy?" he called over his shoulder. "Let me guess, you fell down as a child and hit your head during your wanderings on a cliff?"

Luna sighed. "I've only fallen once and it wasn't my fault. My shoes weren't tied up like that before."

"Then you have no excuse," he said. He had stopped in the middle of the Great Hall, and the tables had moved. "I'll lead."

This was supposed to be charming, a ploy to sweep her off her feet, Luna was sure of it. But the way he said it, and planned it…made her feel like laughing, but not in a mocking way. She was actually quite happy, and she hadn't been this near laughing since she had started at Hogwarts.

"Oh, do," Luna said, crossing the room towards him. She would let him lead, or think he was at least. He offered her his hands, and she took them, smiling.

"The lady doth protest too little," Tom said. "I thought you had an aversion to dancing."

"I don't like crowds," Luna answered. Besides, crowds and their box step dancing were invariably linked to Valentine's. The only thing missing from Valentine's day was the mating dance, actually. But she didn't get the sense of that, and she was too amused to turn him down. How often does one dance with a Dark Lord?

"I can conjure one up," he said, teasingly.

"No, I like it better this way."

"So do I."

Luna did enjoy it. In this place, it was similar to the whole world moving with her. If she had let go of him, she might have fallen forever, because the floor was now as hollow and vague as stars. That didn't matter; she liked holding on. She felt awkward yet very together, somehow important. He was graceful, so she was too. She thought he felt…his hands were very gentle, and consuming, and nice. He didn't look as harsh in this light, as before, and wished he was as handsome on the inside as he was on the outside. She could almost pretend he was good.

"You like this?" he asked, and the way he said it made her heart feel stuffy, like it had earlier. He was perfectly in control. Dangerous, that, being too close to the sun or something infinitely more powerful. He was the ensnarer of senses, Luna realized.

Luna nodded, dizzy and thoroughly convinced the floor should swallow her up for such a confession. She let go quickly and she fell through the floor, straight into her real body.

There was movement behind her, and she turned to see Ginny sitting casually at the Ravenclaw desk.

"Ah well, now to-," he stopped speaking, and Ginny squinted. "You seem to have…sprouted greenery." Luna put her hand up to her face and found that he was right.

"This doesn't happen often," she said, quickly. "Somehow, seeds have gotten into my hair. There are hair reapers. That's what dandruff is, after all."

"Or you were hexed while you were asleep," he offered.

"…That too."

"Here, allow me," he said, and at a wave of Ginny's wand, Luna watched the small sprouts disappear into her hairline. She was about to thank him when she saw that he was looking up the stairs with a terrible expression on Ginny's face.

"Tom."

Ginny's eyes came back into focus, and he looked at her. "I enjoyed tonight. For you, it was rather nice. But…what now?"

"It's obvious, isn't it," he said. "The question of your silence has already been answered. So now, you just have to wait and continue being agreeable."

"What do you mean, Tom? I didn't agree to anything."

"I do hope you liked your food. As far as feasts go, it's one to remember. You should never sample anything in another realm, Luna, you know. Tricky business and all that."

Luna felt as if he had hit her. "There was something wrong with that pudding."

"Au contraire, little bird. There was everything right about it."

"Oh! History does repeat itself. How grand."

"This has happened to you before?" he asked.

"Tom, I am very disappointed. The story is wonderful, but you're a cheat. You don't play the part as well as you think you do. You lack the tragedy plus the dashing air. Anyway, you aren't that much of a lord. You're a body-thief, remember."

"…Yes, I do," he said. "I certainly wouldn't draw attention to anyone's failings, if I were you. You were being almost appealing earlier. I have no choice, you know. Do you hate me for it? For surviving?"

"You know I don't hate you and I hate that," Luna responded.

Ginny tapped the knight, and it sprang aside. "I'll be calling on you again. You can't miss all the fun, after all."

"You can take me instead."

Ginny turned to look over her shoulder. "Instead? Luna, that's precisely what I am doing."

"No, instead of Ginny."

"Don't ever say that again. I will lose any regard for you if you do. I'm becoming sick of your perpetual fatalism, your little love affair with your own doom. Trust me, Luna, you will be around for a very long time."

She backed towards the couch. "Good night, then," he said softly, smiling. "Until next time."

The knight sprang back. The mark on her ankle hurt worst than ever, and the black branches of the wound now formed a chain.

&&&

Thank you for reading. If you'd like, tell me what you think Either way, thank you.

Top of Form


	8. There and Back Again

Disclaimer: All chacters you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling

Author notes: Thanks to Mistress Siana for being a marvelous beta-reader.

Chapter 8

There and Back Again

It may have been time to admit she had a slight problem on her hands. Of course, she would never ever do that—a problem meant someone else would have to help, that it was drifting towards an area out of her control.

The mark on her ankle was very simple. Highly similar to the old chains of flowers she had made before school. Unpresumptuous.

Just as she was, leaving the door in her mind open just a crack—only a crack, so he could slip in and not assume she was waiting for him. The dreams came with increasing frequency now.

She lived his life with him, and by doing so, added several years on her own fragile age. She didn't know whether this was wise, if she would grow old before her years, or if it was the final piece of the puzzle and only wisdom could come with age. Either way, during one of his visits during the week, in his chosen place (her head), he allowed her into his memories.

If his memories weren't a lie but it didn't matter if they were. If they were fabrications, there would still be a truth under the lie.

During one memory, he asked her first. In memory form, her bias colored his features. They weren't as sharp, somehow less intimidating; however, his movements grew even more fluid and his words more alluring, tainted by sleep. She had the feeling he hated her, even if he denied it, even if every motion denied it.

But, Luna thought, when she slipped into the daydreams (which were during the day, night, he could enter into her mind at any time), it was acknowledgement. It scared her each time she felt it, raging underneath her own skin now.

This time (at time she should have been in Transfiguration class, in a group, but they couldn't stop him), he was lounged in her favorite spot near the window.

_You want to understand me completely? _He asked. Laughing.

Luna nodded.

_I would say it's my enemies that understand me the best. They know my cruelties. Sometimes it is my allies, they know my mercy. But they never truly know. They wouldn't dare know._

Her sleep was honest. She dared. Twice, thrice, and even more. And yes, it would hurt.

_I'll be both. An enemy and an ally. That way, I can't lose. _

_Winning? Just imagine it as cutting your losses. Winning, such a vulgar term in this case. _

She stood politely by the book case where he had mocked her, listening. Where was her body now, did time matter, it very well didn't! During the very important things, times would stop, if it were real at all.

_Someone once used the word to me, in a discussion. He, rather like you, fancies himself a great philosopher. A man of words._

Luna wondered what she fancied herself. If she could have answered (and have it make sense), it would be a mirror. Her mother had had a mirror once.

_Let me show you my proof, how I win the argument of words with action. Every time. _

The books turned to dust quite literally.

And then Luna was in a very hot place, judging by the way the sun baked on the back of her neck and her feet were covered with sand. Still in her Hogwart's uniform, she surveyed the place curiously.

She didn't see the temple. Most likely due to the fact that she was standing on it, and tripped over a misplaced statue's nose. The sand had an odd taint to it. Black. It was then she realized the sand—rather underneath the sand—was alive with strange, black bugs with knotted tails on them. A few crawled over her hands and she remained still, wondering and not wanting to frighten them away, until a hand appeared through her middle.

Now that had not been there before, she reasoned and wondered how someone was so nimble as to avoid all her insides. Then another hand lifted her by the tie and there was a thoroughly sensory moment where she was pulled back, watching the hand give way to the arm, and the arm to the torso and the back.

It certainly didn't make her feel quite the same as a ghost. It felt real and warm and made her nervous for reasons she couldn't name.

"You know they're poisonous, right?"

By the way, there were two Tom Riddles. Now, one was more than enough but he had chosen to act upon divide and conquer in the worst case of split personality Luna had ever seen.

"No worse than your hand through my stomach," she said. "Are you stressed? You seem to be falling to pieces"

"Sometimes, I wonder why I bother," he said, dismissively.

Luna looking around at the vast pool of sand. "Now, what is exactly is it

that you—the Tom Two— are looking for?"

The other him, older and his age burning away at him like a candle (the faster you run, the faster it chases you), stared at something under his feet. In this desolate place.

"Patience."

And she was, to a point. The night was terribly cold. Achingly so, and she wondered why memories hurt. In any case, she should have died, and Tom Two definitely should have, but also memories and monsters never die. The desert held a certain respect for this fact, and instead, the wind whispered beautiful and horrible things, as stories with a kernel of truth often were. She hummed lightly, and her Tom did not stop her.

Then, in her head, the seventh day came, the sun rising overhead, melting away the purplish gloom.

Then Tom Two took something out of his cloak. That something was a hand, the fingers ironically shaped in a friendly hand shake. A detachable hand? Cultural diversity or local joke played on tourists? Luna looked at her Tom.

"There is one way into this place of legends. The right hand of a righteous man is the key."

She mentally added a tune to the grim proclamation, for it was the kind of thing that deserved it; a Mad Martin the Muggle's theme song would do.

"You have the hand, forgot the man," she said.

"A lesson: I had brought twelve men here, their memories purged and not a shred of reason in their hearts. The most acclaimed wizards in the books and by reputation. I helped make them, in the words of my opponent, like children. In the end, the only truly righteous man is a dead one."

Luna raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem as somber as the words, but she had yet to discover what really made him happy.

"I see you didn't try your own hand first in your tests," she observed.

"I thought I might need it to reap the rewards," he said, smirking.

"You are very much alive then," she answered.

Tom Two knelt down and placed the hand on the circle, amongst the insects. Luna blinked.

"Most girls are scared, I've noticed, of things that crawl on the ground."

"When they prefer finger foods, it does make one a bit squeamish."

The black mass parted, and there was an emblazoned triangle in its stead. Something was hidden underground, and the now-picked clean hand fit perfectly into the brazen hand print in the middle. The circle turned on its own accord, splitting down the middle.

"And that was the answer," he said, not hiding his pride.

"According to the person who likes to play in the sand, yes," she answered. "You shouldn't do that, you know. That's actually--."

"According to the most powerful wizarding civilization in known history, yes," he interrupted.

She shrugged. He was the age old result of having too much time on his hands, Luna thought, then laughed out loud.

Underneath the sand, there was a forest with trees curved like old men and holding up the ceiling like the ribs of Atlas. Not the sort you see above ground. Pure white trees, like great white spiders were everywhere, and their branches paved a path.

They walked together while his other self paved the way.

"It seems they must have been trying to be a bit too righteous," she said, as they passed several discarded skulls. Honestly, this was the most depressing civilization she had ever seen. For one thing, by the looks of it, they had completely eradicated each other in the pursuit of a good riddle for their door.

Did they realize that their society could not progress and decided to mystify the late comers? Or did the fact that good men were hard to find give rise to the possibility of hopelessness and self-vanity? And why did he find them so wise when they were standing in ruins?

"Their methods were not without flaws. Yet it is entirely reasonable to assume there is no such moral idealism in men. So to beat this dilemma, one would simply become so much more than a man."

Luna blinked up at him. "Is that what you really, truly want?" she questioned.

"Really, truly yes," he said, without hesitation.

"I thought you wanted to take over the world," Luna said happily, very sure of her facts.

"As a result. It would be my natural right, if I succeed in my goal."

"That's a very manly thing to do, though," she mused. She didn't plan on telling him that women already rule the world; as her mother had told her, keep that a secret.

"How do you manage to make everything possess an element of the absurd?"

"Oh, it's very easy when everything has an element of the absurd," she continued. "In the stories, gods are really just delighted in playing tricks and having a chat about it over a cup of mead."

"Along with the routine human sacrifices supplying the daily bread."

"You want to eat people?" Luna whispered, keeping her distance.

"With a side of relish and…what are you doing?" he asked, when she stopped completely. "It's a thing commonly referred to as humor."

"But you're funny without trying," she opined, wondering at his sudden attempt at anything remotely light hearted. Or not, as it were.

He froze, and Luna thought perhaps her private amusement should have been just that—private. If she didn't laugh, she would cry.

"I see. I will have to rectify that. When I have the time. Whenever the opportunity presents itself."

She knew she would pay dearly later or sooner, and she would never know when. He would draw it out just to torment her. She sighed and set her mind to her surroundings. There was a familiar melody, from the trunks, and Luna realized what it was.

"Crickey, it's a cricket," she announced. "That means a whole year of good fortune."

The trunk shook, and she caught a glimpse of it underneath the branches. It was quite…quite big. Actually, a little more than that and…she stared. Usually, nightmares would stay in the dark but this one was crawling towards them. That really wasn't supposed to happen.

"Trust me," he said, pulling her along by the hand. "Even in my lifetime, I would forgo their gifts. Bad luck is always one step after good."

Now that she looked, down into the gaps between the arching branches (which formed archways more than natural shapes), and saw that the cricket had ample company in ample amounts. Actually she thought they were closing in on them, forming a tight circle. Dark shapes with prickly legs and menacing pinchers loomed overhead, freshly wet.

She needed a bigger jar. Yes, like in a story, she thought blindly and clung to the thought, thinking of the tune and the name for the characters, and how this may not be real. Dreams can't hurt you, right, it was the rule. If one touched her though, brushed her with its many legs, over and over again…dreaming that over and over again with no way to wake up….

She stepped closer to him.

"This is usually the point in the story where we, the merr-brooding band of explorers, flee. They give a fierce chase but against all the odds, we allude capture."

Luna began to walk quickly but his arm blocked her.

"I am not about to run from an insect."

His other self shared the same sentiment, keeping a steady pace despite the increasing humming. The sound made her want to run and it cut through her curiosity like a poison dart.

"Not even a billion humongous ones?"

"No. Learn how to count."

Their pinchers, as far as she could tell, glistened with gory promises and a good trim with a side of lopping. To her surprise, Tom covered her with his outer robes. To her surprise, it was comforting.

"They sense your fear. It's as real as you make it. That's the beauty of it. And the danger of it."

Luna suspected it was the early forms of magic, when it was starting to try to reach those certain people who were in tune with it. It was aggressive, greedy, and somewhere inside, she felt its pull. One had to have to control of every aspect of their personality, desires, and in the spots where there was chaos or doubt, the pull turned into a spiraling whirlpool.

But despite the reasoning, those legs were quite real, and she had dreamed them up herself. And in the back of her mind, she thought reality wasn't that reliable, and secretly questioned her own reality. It made her a bit sick so she had to stop.

She had to admit she was glad he was here with her. His other self hesitated only just, walking into the mass as if they were particularly ghastly wall-hangings.

"And we are through," he said. She still heard them scratching at the gate, like blood hounds. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Tom had moved, or rather glided in a fluid motion, to stand near what resembled early, pre-historic drawings on a wall. Well, he was always one to talk with his movements and poise rather than words, Luna observed.

He leaned back against the odd figures lazily.

"Come to think of it, why did you journey here? There are other spots for a holiday."

"In search of answers. Certain self-righteous, self-indulgent fools claim that love is the greatest power on this earth. And, _alas_, I will have to take his hand for his sentimental drivel; it is the law of the ancients, is it not?"

"You went half way around the world to prove someone wrong?" she asked, but somehow was not too surprised. She found it rather cute in a way, if not terribly amusing albeit obsessive. "You couldn't be happy with your own idea."

"No, it's just a convenient side interest. If love is the source of all magic, or the greater power, I would have run into definite proof along the way. Instead I discover this."

He pointed to one of the lower designs, imprinted with an alarmingly rich color. She knelt down, brushed off the cobwebs, and squinted. Oh…

"Well, I don't know exactly what they are doing to each other, there, but--."

"That's the wrong one!" he burst out, and completely blocked her view. She was distinctly sure he had pointed it out. She frowned.

"Now that you've hidden it, I'm quite curious about it."

"This is it, here. Get it right this time."

A bit annoyed, and still trying to steal a glance at the censored figures, Luna studied the figures and…her eyes met an even more captive sight than Ginny's cracked and tormented soul. It was a figure of what used to be a person. Its jaws had become a gaping, pleading hole with sharp needle like teeth drawn over in dark red; its eyes had become pure white (eggshell, with the age) and seemed to have a waxy, honeycomb film over the lids. The face was caving in around the cheeks and the hair curled into snakes that fell occasionally in heaps, a continuing cycle of despair pulling its hair out…

It did not help that this particular depiction was enchanted to move. Another figure, another despairing Fury, held a real, real person in its grip and its mouth was sealed in a searing kiss, one without compassion or the slightest trace of warmth but of starvation and eternal need.

"Do you know what you are seeing, little bird?"

She shook her head.

"Why, the birth of the first Dementors. Born armed to the teeth, straight out of the depths of love."

"That…Tom, that isn't love."

"It is, Lovegood. The inscription says so. It makes it quite clear. In their day, these people were fond of bottling emotions. Tasting them, you know, through the means of potions and brews. I'd say they grew to like the taste."

"No, they're Furies! Why, they must be distant cousins to the Fluries and Harpies United. So it's…it's madness and harping, right. After someone hurts a member of their family, I believe."

He paused, one of his hands shifting to the back of her neck.

"Those taste sweet—well, not the harping, I'm sure, it's not even--, but nothing compared to that other unfortunate ambrosia. It drove them to depend on the emotion completely, wasting away into the creatures they are today."

"But how did a good emotion do them harm?"

"Oh, it's easy to explain," he whispered, pointing to the symbols that hung above the pair in eternal explanation. "Their love hurt them, drove them to want to ease the burden of what was naturally instilled within them. The soul itself…has imprints of every feeble attachment, every human feeling. You feel sorrow in their presence because they, the lost lovers in this story, take all your warmth. The creatures never affected me when I met them…"

He took her hand, which always seemed so small in comparison, and placed it on the mural that moved underneath her palm.

"Now, look at their victims, look at them. If love is the great redeemer, as he says, why would it create the most wretched creatures on earth?"

"It's rather…it's rather hard to understand," Luna said, vastly intimidated by anyone's desire to really hear her opinions. It didn't help that the mural reflected her current situation a little too much. "I think too much is too much, no matter what the emotion was. They wanted to have the feeling all to themselves. I don't understand," she finished.

"Then remember addiction. Obsession," he spoke, _You know obsession _and his lips were cool next to the tip of her ear. She shivered and something shivered with her.

"Why is the wall moving?"

"Because it's not a wall at all," Tom said, laughing at his mimicry, and she realized that he was right. She tried to pull her hand away but he would not allow it. "The creature is caught in transition, right in the middle of devouring that unfortunate soul."

"And the person in the blue is real too?"

"Don't worry, he's past feeling it. And this is a water prison. After all, to the soul it is death to become water. They were a very practical people, these magic wielders."

"It's definitely a case of the grass is greener on the other side. But now they're all gone," she reminded him.

"Not quite."

He allowed her to step back from the vessel and they both caught up to his other self.

Now she was highly intrigued, or more likely entranced. Whom would they meet, she wondered?

The halls, if they could be called that, narrowed, turning a light pale blue, in a similar fashion to the lines in one's arm. Life lines. You could probably read every fate in the world.

"The loom!" she cried and turned to him. "Is it the loom of the Fates, the tapestry? Oh, you're going to rearrange your destiny, aren't you?"

"Nothing is ever so simple. One thread would affect the other, theoretically. Besides, that's a co-dependent action, on the looms of false deities. That magic would devour you like a spider would in its web."

Oh, you're one to talk, she thought. "A hint, please."

"That would ruin the atmosphere," he said and nodded towards something in front of them.

Well. That's what it was. In the form of a well, and over it was a remaining thin sprig from the tree. It looked like the runt of the sprigs, in her opinion, and she decided to hold her breath when she crossed.

And of course, it was ladies first, apparently. For the both of them!

"You're much heavier than me, times two. Really, the heaviest should go first."

"I'm—we're—men of a better time. Really, we insist."

The Tom Two couldn't hear them but he did wait, looking down the well with an expression of rapture. Then she noticed the legs, real legs by the way, on the bottom of the well…it was a cauldron. The toes moved, drumming the floor in a gesture of impatience. They were…not human, either.

Well, there was no other way around it.

Luna pretended she was a feather and placed her foot on the branch—not the runty rig—in defiance. She would make it across. The cauldron moved with her, following her progress diligently. This was highly unusual behavior for a cauldron, no matter the condition of its bottom.

It was, like the crickets, massive. Old. The material was quite questionable. Then she noticed the small orbs hanging over her, lighting the way.

"Tom," she called over her shoulder. "The cauldron is chasing me."

"That's the least of your worries. Just don't look down."

Then she did.

Into a cauldron filled to the brim with souls. Why she could tell they were souls were due to the fact that they retained their features, impressions, from their life. And there were other…things, Luna noted, like apples that bobbed up and down merrily. To hold the spirits in, an apple a day would keep the doctor away. For only the Healers could put your soul back into your body.

Someday that could be her. Or her mother. In a cauldron, and hadn't her mother said they were all special? So she wasn't after all? Breathing heavily, she almost toppled over.

Looking up, she saw that the spirit lights were not as stationary as she had hoped.

"Careful, not all of them are human. They are eager to get out, and your body, without protection, is perfect."

She had a memory of a whisper in her ear. _You make the perfect doll. _Where the memory came from, she could not say. Only the feeling of not having her body, of something else controlling her was something she could imagine with clarity.

The spheres, which on closer inspection were composed with three circles, danced gleefully around her, drifting closer.

"If they touch you, it's over."

Luna felt he could have mentioned that sooner. Despite her precarious position, she began to hurry, heel-toeing it. It was like being entrapped with highly talkative seashells.

_The things I've seen, the wrongs. Let me touch you, I'll want to feel. _

…_She's waiting for you, just tell me and I will-_

_I'll show you all the treasures that you seek. You'll forever wander and never-_

"Have anything to lose," she whispered and for a moment…considered it.

"Listen to my voice," he called, perfectly composed. "They're deceiving you. You must block them out. Except that one."

There was one final glow at the end of the pitiful path.

"That one—that one has a penchant for testing you. What are you most afraid of?"

She didn't answer, staring at the crouching thing at the end.

"Here, your fears can hurt you. Physically as well as mentally. So—"

Tom was right behind her.

"My fear is quite boring. And I don't want to bore you," he muttered. "There should be no secrets between us friends. Let's have it."

He pushed her toward it. The orb shattered, into several round coin-shaped items that splashed into the cauldron of stalkery.

"I—Bottle caps?" he asked, astounded. Luna felt an angry tug on her necklace. "The very ones you have around your neck!" She gasped, and he loosened his grip.

He seemed to be taking this rather personally.

"I have them on a string, so I know just where they are at all times," Luna explained in a solemn tone.

"I don't—are you---out of all the possible scenarios, you fear corks. Corks. I'll give you a reason to, if--."

"Genies fear corks."

"Are you a genie?" he asked, his face oddly calm in the face of this affront. "A half-genie and half-bug?"

"You should know, actually. Remember, you were going to look it up, my background."

His hand darted out rapidly and he flicked her wand out from behind her ear. It was really a bit immature.

"Well, the fellows at the tavern and wedding guests are also wary of corks and caps," she said reasonably, leaning down to get her wand.

"Oh, I can tell you're a regular at taverns with your secret life as a beer wench" he said, glaring. She blinked. "There must be something more you aren't telling me."

Then he paused as the light shifted again. And again. It seemed to struggle to form something but could not hold a shape, melting into another thing only to fall to pieces.

Some part of her felt guilty and she looked away from it. The sound of it struggles made her feel exposed, as if that wrong thing inside of her had broken apart and decided to dance besides her.

"I see."

"What do you fear?" she asked quickly. She didn't want to hear his opinion of it. She didn't know what she'd do then, if he didn't pretend with her.

He smiled knowingly.

"Used to fear. You can define a man by his fear, and obviously, I am more than a man. And you apparently are akin to the average beverage."

Luna cheered up immensely. Beverages were highly important. Everyone had to drink, once in awhile, you know, to stay alive. She smiled brightly and moved to peek around him to see what he _used _to be afraid of. His fingers were still intertwined in her necklace.

"Of course, there is more," he said. "To possess such simple relics at the core of your soul. You wear your fears around your neck, and you should know, that's the most vulnerable spot."

His grip tightened, and the old magic in the air heightened the sensation, as it sought out all the empty places to invade. This place was madness.

…and the white arches were not tree branches. It was a ribcage, after all. They were inside of a thing that had passed away when the earth had been new. And she thought it was still alive. She thought it was eating away at her.

"I would like to leave now."

"The thing is dead. It's just a physical realization of magical energies that was practically hollowed out to form a temple. The sooner you move, the sooner you can leave."

Shaking, she heard a humming coming from deeper down in the tunneled throat.

"Magic is a living force," he continued, wrapping an arm around her. "Even in inanimate object, it grants a semblance of life. Here, what they've done is extraordinary, the only case of its kind. The magic remains in the tissue, feeding in its various forms. Those souls keep the magic alive."

"But it's rotting, too," Luna said, thinking of the Dementors."

"Ah, balance. A soul within a soul would rot the body, it just wouldn't be fatal. On the contrary, it's the rudimentary form of immortality."

"This is bad," she said, sure of it. The traveling spirits, both human and in-human, joined in a taunting song about silly little girls. Children are the fountain of youth, but girls are so much sweet with blossoms in their cheeks, pluck them out. Just make them, break them, and put them in some bread. She shuddered, as the spirits kept up, strolling besides them and turning to every sort of children behind the trees (skipping, singing, screaming) and then twisting, twisting them into every sort of roll. Shadows would leap in the form of wolves and ghosts and monsters that wait only for the youth.

Dearheart, her father would say, this is the place where all the stories come from.

"This is very, very bad."

"Then you are very, very bad," he said, and she started. "This very exchange is happening within your own body. Wizards live longer than Muggles due to presence of magic in their blood; in its essence, magic, all magic, is immortal. All this is your heritage, you know. Show a little appreciation. "

"The magic has a mind of its own here, and it wants me," Luna warned him. "And you. It is the wolf in this forest."

"Of course it does. Never call it evil. It's just choosy in its favorites; my blood draws it in. When I was younger…" he said, his eyes strange and nearly child-like. "When I was younger, that very shape would always be out the window, on the grounds…it's always wanted me. But I can master it, and this magic will obey me."

"Then tell it stop hunting us."

"It's all an illusion until it gets close enough, and it gets close enough because it needs us. Can't you feel that? My dear girl, it's toying with you. Let it, open your self to the sensation."

Luna knew she would be overcome by it. If she opened herself a bit, it would caress and devour until that bit was a whole. This magic was white and fierce and being devoured would not hurt. That was the most dangerous thing of all. She would like it and be here forever more in pain and pleasure. Luna shook her head.

"Then you're saving yourself for other sensations, I take it. What a pleasure. Pay no mind to the shadows, the real treasure is right before us.

The two of them, one barely a boy and the other more than a man, approached the gate attached to the tunneled throat. The gate stretched out, groaning in its metal work and grinning back at them. Above this gate was a small hive. It seemed blacked and abandoned, and Luna couldn't blame the bees that had left.

Again there were words. Again, she didn't need to understand the language to see the story.

_The lady behind my teeth loved the world so_

_She poured her soul into the very earth_

_Until there was no more to give. _

_The eternal fool _

_The eternal lover_

_Give her a kiss if you dare. _

It swung its jaws open and inside, was a wall of honeycombs, each one holding a different shadow inside. Faces, more inhuman once more, were curved and buried in the deepest lull of sleep in the sandman's chamber. For sand made their beds and covered their eyes like the rarest silk.

"I doubt even you couldn't have imagined this," he said, his voice holding a tangible excitement, very close to a frenzy. "An endless collection of the vanquished."

"From what war?" Luna whispered, not recalling any event with so many vanquished.

"Why, the war of magical superiority. These beings could use magic as well as wizards. Once, I believe, they were what the Muggle myths termed gods and demons. Any thing they can't understand, they isolate it in their minds, from the very existence of real time. Hence, myths and tales to frighten their children…or themselves. They told the stories because it was the only way their minds could grasp such things. However, in truth…in truth, the wizards have forgotten the very peoples they have enslaved. You see, every sentient thing wants to be special."

"But they were here first. How could the wizards do that? Why? It's so very cruel."

"Haven't you noticed what Hogwarts is like? The strongest, the best, the quickest are rewarded and the slow, small, and timid are pushed to the side, and Hogwarts is only the beginning of this ideal. In the pursuit of purity, weakness can not be allowed. And if these beings were stronger, better, the roles would be reversed. Rightly so. But now, now…the wizarding world has not…they are like children, grown fat after only one meal. They have forgotten how to struggle. I see our fate in these figures."

Luna found a different fate altogether. One of self imposed vanity and delusions. All their secrets in their dreams…lost for good. It seemed like self-infliction, horrible and near-sighted. She shuddered.

"But enough of living in the past. The past is still living right now. Above you, Luna. Look."

She looked. Embedded into the roof of the mouth, exactly behind its teeth, was part of a tower. Once it had been whole, and the shape had been odd among the trees. Leaves and vines still curled around walls that had fallen perhaps a century ago.

Out of the top of the ribbed remains that looked rather like an old bird cage, Luna saw that there was hair, a river of grey hair, pooling down towards the ground. Her eyes widened and her breath quickened.

Forgetting her fear, forgetting the virtual catacombs that surrounded her, Luna hurried forward. Her mind was in an excited fervor. This, by Puck, was something she knew.

Hands shaking with naïve rapture, she reached out to seize the hair and scale the heights.

"When--" He asked, laughing and curling an arm around her to stop her in mid flight. "When would_ that_ ever be a good idea?"

"That's how you're supposed to do it. Then someone is meant to free her from the spell with a kiss. That would be you, Tom."

"Actually, the person who scales the hair is the one in charge of the kissing."

Luna let go of the strands she had in her hands instantly. Could one imagine what centuries upon centuries would do to someone's mouth?

Still, she shivered as he held her against him. Trapping her against him. She couldn't see a thing from this view point. His other self, filled with the same rapture Luna was suffering from, cast a Levitation spell. So he was on equal footing with the cage.

She shook and she struggled. He kept his gaze on his other half, now holding her with both arms.

"Tom," she said, with such excitement it sounded like a persistent chirping. "Tom. Tom."

"Yes?"

"Can you float me up there?"

"I don't know, this experience might be more than you can take."

Now she was more persistent than ever. "Oh, but it will drive me mad if I don't see her. She's been so lonely up there, and you're not very hospitable. I know you'll leave her in the cage and she'll be sad."

"…Very well. Wander up there and have your hello party."

"But what about the mints?"

Instead of supplying her with the necessary defense, he cast the charm and Luna felt very light. It was unbelievable that she would finally meet the source of some many stories. A living story, and this person simply must be wonderful. Luna could let her out and show her the world she loved so dearly.

His other self was on the opposite side, thankfully, and she parted the foliage without hesitation.

And promptly wished she had never ever asked to see.

The person, if it could be properly called a person, was…not very…well. Her eyes, unlike the Dementors' eyes, still resided in her head. The look out of them was quite mad. Somewhere, maybe near the quarter of 1000 B.C, she had tried to end her eternity (judging by the use of the shard of metal from the cage in her side), only to find that now the world loved her just as much. The one-sided love had taken its toll, as one-sided loves were the doom to all fair maidens.

Her skin was entirely composed of folds long before her bones had started to fail her. It was only through the light gleaming against empty, glassy eyes that Luna had discovered there were eyes to be had. Her mouth had long lost itself to decay and the continual use of the lotus leaves on the vine…which by the way, held jeweled eyes in the center. Their eye lashes tickled her palm. Her nails had grown and curled inward on themselves. Her clothes had turned to rotten mold.

She looked past her two visitors, not seeing them. Entranced with the flowers that had kept her company and the very small ornament in her hair that formed two small lions standing proudly back to back in an old unidentifiable metal, sword gripped tightly in their jaws. Most of the features had been rubbed raw of the ornament, though. In the space, which was quite large, there had been a long table, and it was clear once upon a time she had been worshipped, revered, and adored, judging by the amount of jewels, tokens locked up with her.

Then there were the other things. The cradle, where there was a stained, decomposing blanket with a curved, tooth-like knife placed almost lovingly in the folds. The chains on the table.

Perhaps that was why the woman was here in the cage. She had given death out a little too freely. Once worshipped, then loathed, now forgotten.

She could have been pitied. But in the end, she would not understand the emotion she had never shown in regards to the others whose blood had touched the long table. In the end, it was the cage that saved her, divided her from the new others, the new world that would find nothing in her to worship. The feat of immortality itself was hidden by the immortality of the consequences.

"Erm," Luna said, and this was all the introduction she managed. For Tom's worser half had stuck his arm through the bars and plucked the ornament from the ancient's very hands. Luna wondered why he didn't take it with magic, but then again, where would his sport be in the act.

Those empty eyes sharpened, and the woman let out an enraged howl, long and animalistic in its desperation.

"Wait a moment, you can't take that," Luna said, finding she was more protective of someone else property than her own, and she reached out to knock the ornament from his grasp. To which…to which he suddenly became very real and seemed surprised by her appearance.

"Is she your ward, spirit?" he inquired, entrapped her against the bars where the woman's ghastly hands traced her face like a blind woman. "Are you a ghost attached to this metal?"

The woman's fingers were like worms. He was…this half or quarter or whatnot of Riddle was very strange. She couldn't look into his eyes and found herself trapped. And the thing behind her wanted to hurt her just as badly as he did. Only he was smiling.

She held on to the piece, closing her eyes tightly. "Excuse me, I am not a ghost. I'm Luna Lovegood and I'm just as real as you are."

I hope, I hope, I-

"Oh. Good to know."

Then he dropped her. She screamed, passing through every layer of time, and gasped when her Tom caught her.

"I see we've met thrice now," he said calmly.

"And you've tried to kill me thrice and I'm starting to think it's persona…what?" she asked, confused.

"Sorry, math is not my strong suit."

"Never mind, did you see, you've just stolen that lady's brooch. You have to stop yourself."

"I have my hands full at the moment."

She struggled a bit half-heartedly and he wouldn't let go.

"You can stop him with your mind."

"I'm agreeably preoccupied. Besides, I would have just thought up the brooch to begin with."

She gasped. "You would steal with your mind, Tom. Think, if someone was to steal your mind, how would you feel? It's such a horrible thing to lose."

"Shhhh. As I recall, we're going to have company."

And then she heard it. The cracking sound. Of bodies that had not moved in millenniums.

"I can put you down now, if you like."

"No, this is quite all right," she said, looking out at the moving creatures that were waking up to the woman's call.

His other self joined them on the ground, and she glared at his back.

"It's nothing personal," her Tom said. "Be still and look away."

She called them creatures. Some were part human, some were all human—in appearance. Some were beautiful and some were monsters. One, for instance, who circled above, had the head of a falcon, complete with wings. There were people with bold, large eyes that Muggles mistook for fairies.

This motley group had two things in common: power and anger.

When he killed the falcon who was the first one to attack, she shared the second attribute.

"I told you to look away," he interrupted when she opened her mouth.

"You love magic and yet you kill it," she said fiercely.

"There are a plenty more like him here, and he's the only one necessary to clear the path. The rest are slow with age."

He demonstrated this theory by literally stepping on several heads (still attached to the bodies of the beast trying to rise) to get across the room. He was quite nimble for such a tall person, she mused. She looked over his shoulder, to stare at the fallen bird, and saw another one (for there were very many) was quicker than Tom had suspected.

"Behind you," she cried.

A curse shot over their heads and struck the man in mid attack. Dear bluebeard, they could wield fire as a weapon. She decided to stop worrying and hang on to him, with her arms around his shoulders.

"You are very bad at math," she said, shivering and remembering he had said only one of the creatures died.

"Right, I forgot that about that one," he said. And realizing he would never forget any such thing, she understood that things could change even in the past.

"Tom."

"Just keep your head down. Poke me in the eye with your wand again and I will drop you."

But his grip felt secure, and somehow, he managed to weave through the onslaught between the monsters and himself quite well.

His other self, however, started to take his time killing those who flew at him. All manner of ancients turned in dust, as the past met the future and proved not enough. She gritted her teeth when several of them screamed in fresh agony. Their magic was pure, unevolved, and his was dark and terrible to behold. Spirit animals were skinned into smoke, fire demons extinguished, and former gods brought to their knees and beheaded all at a flick of his wand.

A few…the group of nimplets whom Muggles said were fairies…stood passively, holding each others hands. Wide-eyed. Uncomprehending. They didn't understand the intent to harm. The world had left them behind. She closed her eyes when they went without a murmur.

And all was silent except the sobbing of the lady in the tower.

She peered through the bars at them and opened her mouth, trying to form words.

His other self turned and left without acknowledging her…but allowed her to see him place the ornament slowly into his pocket.

Years later, when she watched Cedric Diggory's father sobbing over his son's empty body, she would remember Lady Lilith and her grief over her fallen sons and daughters. For in eternity, she would become a spring and weep forever.

Further down, they realized the entrance had moved. The tunnels had become twisted and unrecognizable. More spirits and horrible monsters met them on their way out. She didn't pay attention any more, keep her face buried into his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"Tom," she whispered and was about to say so many things that were dancing inside her mind and welling up like an infection…then she said, "I'm glad you're warm because I'm very tired and cold."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You are a young girl and with so much excitement, I imagine so…do you have any questions for me? You're usually bursting with them."

"…No. That's all right. You were quite fearless, back there," she added, understanding him and feeling...as if having no fear at all was quite a bit worse than having fear.

"Hm. I wouldn't say so. Well," he paused. "I think…I was chosen to do go there and find her after all those centuries."

Luna thought of the wolf in the trees and nodded. "It's just a memory, isn't it? Time heals, I suppose, or at least, makes the wounds fade."

"Not for her. Not for me, either."

She tightened her grip and stared up at him. "You know, just because the wolf came to you, it doesn't mean you have to let it haunt you, Tom. You know that, right."

"I do. Now if you are cold, let me help you."

"I suspect the desert will be warm enough. You don't have to carry me through the dessert, by the way."

"Hah, is that where you think we are?"

The terrible two pulled something else out of his cloak. It was small hourglass. He tapped it once, and in an instant, they were in a crowded tavern. Luna looked at the bearded men dressed in coats and at the snowing falling blissfully out the window.

"We were in the hourglass!" she said.

"Found at the Hourglass tavern in Greenland. It was right in the seal over the bar."

Despite her conflicted feelings, Luna marveled at his intellect, and smiled. "How ever did you find it?"

"I'm just rather good at guessing. Power comes in small sizes, on occasion. Would you like a drink?"

She blinked. "A creamed coffee, or something," he clarified. "We've got the time, and this is the place to spend it."

His other self had left already, disappearing into the frigid snow. "Where is he off to? He can't sit down with us for a moment before going for a stroll in the snow?"

"You two didn't get off on the right foot for another meeting. Regardless of the presence of alcohol. Now, sit here by the fire, and I'll get you something."

Tom moved to the bar and Luna sat down on the rug, quite cozy. It was a very merry Christmas the third time in a row, and she was very much at peace. There wasn't a lot of green in Greenland however, after all. She noticed the plethora of white beards of the bats.

Soon, he returned with two mugs. He didn't have to wait in line, you know.

"You didn't slip something into it this time, did you?"

"…Perhaps. Take a risk."

"Trade your mug, Tom."

He obliged. She took a sip. "What is this... it tastes like beans. With cream!"

"I thought you'd remember our previous outing. So I anticipated your request."

Luna gaped, thoroughly astounded. Brilliance.

"Promise I didn't put anything in it. Enjoy your coffee and take in the scenery. It's nice this time of year."

"Did you notice the herd of Dumbledores?"

"…herd of _Dumbledores_?"

"Yes. All these men with white beards. They all look like Professor Dumbledore. This must be his native land."

"Which one looks the most like him, in your opinion?" he inquired. "The doppelganger who wins the contest gets a prize."

She tapped her mug in concentration. "I chose that plucky fellow of there, singing along with the music. He has the exact twinkly look in this eye."

"You do know that means he's trying to read your mind, don't you?"

She coughed into her cup. "Yes, afraid so. Besides, that twinkle there is more of an intoxicated twinkle. Dumbledore is drunk on most topics; he thinks himself well versed on any subject. But he's not falling out of his chair while preaching."

"Hmm…then him, the one with the beard to his feet."

"Too much hair."

"The one sitting all by himself, in the corner."

"Too little-no, that's about right. Dumbledore had to start wearing a hat around my time. Oh, he tried going without it at the beginning, to show his majestic head and the joy of old age. Didn't last a day."

Luna laughed, the image of Dumbledore woefully bald stuck out in her mind. "Want to see what these Muggles do when faced with the perils of hair loss?"

He waved his hand and in a moment, half of the room's full heads of hair were blown off, rising like a white mass! There were several loud snaps, and things that looked like brain-eating wombats took flight.

"There are bolts in their scalps," she cried. "They snap poor animals to their heads."

"…I pity the mass extinction of these fiends' prey. Such ignoble deaths."

"Well, their heads would get nippy. Professor Dumbledore has no excuse."

"Right you are," Tom agreed. "How do you like coffee?"

"I love coffee. May I try some without the cream?"

"You like yours black, then. A girl after my own heart," he said, smiling. They spent the night there, and Luna woke up to wonder why she was so wide awake at four in the morning.

Her excitement wrought from consummation of the black beans did not last long. That very day, Ginny and Tom had snuck back through that crack in her mind. He let her hear every word of their conversation during breakfast and during her first class.

_You know I'm your only friend. Your own brothers forsook you, unremarkable thing you are, and your Harry Potter will never acknowledge you, much less look at you. My poor little Ghost, let me put an end to your suffering. I can make more out of our life than you ever will. _

They danced, Tom speaking ever so softly and Ginny shrieking and shouting. All the while, Luna watched Ginny sit in the desk in front of her, obediently writing down the answers on the board.

Luna's parchment was blank when she handed it in to Professor McGonagall. The older woman pursed her lips in disappointment. She left the room quickly, ready to leave the building and go outside where her thoughts might be free.

Then there was a distant tinge in her arm. _Luna._

He was calling for her specifically. She wandered around the corridors until she could wander no more, something pulling and wearing at the back of her mind like a hound.

At first, she missed it, stepping into the haunted girl's bathroom, expecting just the typical downpour of tears.

Luna wondered how she could have missed it—for there was so, so very much of it. The blood covered the tile like a briar thicket and droplets darted through the lost children following breadcrumbs through a maze.

The source of the spring was near the sink, and Ginny Weasley was so painfully pale it made one hurt to look at her. A bloody quill lay innocently nearby.

"Don't hurry on my account," Tom said, looking through Ginny's narrowed eyes. "I've just been calling you for twenty minutes."

She stared.

"It seems the little bitch learned a new trick," he said, dismissively, and Luna inwardly flinched. "Writing implements, a necessary evil, especially when used on the skin. She was writing a message."

He held up the inner part of Ginny's arm, and Luna saw the words HEL carved there, jagged and much too clear. Across her wrists were also marks, giving her hands the image of being sewed on.

"I let it go too far. It's my fault," he said.

She held her breath, leaning by the side of the door, watching the blood soak into the diary. Was he admitting a mistake?

"At first, it was quite funny. As if anyone would look under her uniform." He laughed. "I thought she just liked the pain, because this was an act she could do herself. I had no hand in this, and that's sad. It's rather morbidly fanciful, isn't it?"

"She must be in a morbid state of mind, Tom," Luna said, who was distinctly light headed. Also something was thoroughly rotten in this state, and she felt her whole body tremble, thinking of getting a passport.

"Well, I let her go about her business, pretending not to notice, then I snatched her hands away, back under my control, to let her have hell all she wanted. Her fingers twitched, and we have this."

He motioned to the marks on her wrists.

"She was trying to-to hurt herself?"

"To kill me along with her, but clearly her rotting body would not affect me. It was out of spite. Pure spite. She would have been a good girl if I hadn't been waiting for her all her life."

Luna raised an eyebrow, still leaning against the door, with alternating waves of hot and cold washing unmercifully over her body. It wasn't that she hadn't seen blood before; it was the small girl, and the stained porcelain sink, and dear, dear, there was so very much.

"But at least she is giving me a struggle near the end," he said dismissively. Luna blinked. "Don't tell me you're going to faint."

"Since three's a crowd, I'll leave."

"And in my hour of need, she flees."

"Well," Luna pondered. "Well, if she was born for this moment, perhaps you were too. I don't believe in fate but I really do respect your beliefs. I wouldn't want to get in the way."

"Oh, she's jealous," he said. "You both have my undivided attention, as you can see."

"The problem is that the blood is outside of her body, right?"

"…Yes, that appears to be the problem. Now come here."

Luna stood, feet planted firmly near the door.

"Will I have to force you? I do appreciate an act of good will every once and a while, you know."

"This may very well be Ginny's only means of escape. I'm not going to block her exit. It would be rude," she said, thoughtfully and entirely convinced of her reasoning. It made the dizziness evaporate, and she even felt herself smile.

"What a contrary mood we are in today. We both know you're not a ruthless child. Impersonal, but not ruthless."

Luna looked at the ceiling and found that there were thousands of taps there too, and there was a rather racy mermaid, covered up in shells, and a lamprey was quite a wonderful distraction she took with gratitude.

"Ruth-less," she mused. Less of Ruth, perhaps giving, perhaps loving… "Fate is not always kind. Think, Tom. If she was born to meet you, if she was born to die with you, then maybe, just maybe, she was meant to take you along with her."

"You don't believe in fate."

"Oh, no. But you really do. Daddy says to always respect other people's beliefs."

Ginny's mouth curved, and her hair stuck out at sharp angles all around her pale face. Her tiny legs were buckled and curled up underneath her, and her knees were stained with blood. Her dark eyes were lit up with something that resembled pleasure, and dear, oh, dear where does Ginny end and Tom begin?

"This is exquisite," he muttered, his eyes unfocused as if listening to a very distant, unreachable sound. "Simply exquisite. I'm so close to death, and it can't taint me. This girl is filled to the brim—or near empty I should say, and I hear her dying."

Luna almost went to him, them, but managed to hold on to the door frame. She wished it could have gone differently, with Ginny. They could have been friends. With Tom…she had to hide that fact, lock it away until he was gone.

"I've never really liked surprises. Well, let me correct that. I never like receiving them as much as I savor giving them. It is necessary to be tested, I know, and I need to be tested, but the unexpected is a bit trying," he said, sighing. "I was going to save this one for later. It can't be helped."

Suddenly, expectedly, something stretched under her skin. It should have been painful. It wasn't because it—the chains—had been there so long without her notice, and her body had become accustomed to their presence. It seemed as if she now possessed scales underneath her flesh, or the scales had possessed her.

Well she couldn't say she very much cared for this surprise.

"Come here to me," he said gently, and the chains pulled her forward, and this time it did hurt. "I don't want to see your tears. There has been enough letting for today."

She gritted her teeth, thinking of the necklace her mother had made for her, they had made together, not this feeling.

"Who would you say entrances the other, the puppet or the puppet-master? The master drops the strings, the hollow thing ceases to be real. Do you want me to drop you, Luna?"

Distantly, through the haze of a throbbing agony, Luna accepted that the rules of the game had changed. She planned to play fully, and change with the game, for there was only the game that kept him at bay, kept him real, as he said.

"Could you?" she asked, curiously. "A puppet always has a purpose in the show. Why would you fashion me if you weren't fond of me? Daddy sa--."

She gasped as the chains tightened.

"Enough of that word," he said, strained. "You try my patience with your pathetic co-dependency."

Luna smiled at the irony. "That word bothers you," she observed. "I will use it quite often until it doesn't anymore."

Ginny's face contorted horribly, and the pain swelled to such a pitch Luna really did feel the edge of dizziness creeping, creeping closer. The funny thing about pain was two important facets: one, in pain, you knew you were alive, and two, it wasn't so very bad near the end. There's a certain pitch, a certain swelling of the physical nature that her mind rode, and it pushed her so far up she barely felt it except a caress. It was like a dark, dark wave (like at the ocean, only that one was blue) and she was on the crest.

The problem was coming down, trailing down, spiraling down, and breathing hurt and what goes up must come down, and she passed the pain and it was real again. She forced herself to keep breathing. It sounded as if she had ceased in an unstoppable laughing fit, and it was far better to laugh or she would cry. She had never cried, she thought, never but in mirth and it wasn't going to change, that rule. Not for any game in the entire world.

She noticed the chains were loosening and there were tears running down her cheeks. Everything felt raw. Her body was contorted and she, in tiny steps, un-tensed, letting it fall like hair in a tie, a rat. She noticed Ginny's shoes, and that one had a hole in the toe, and it was very odd that he had continued to tie her little shoes so meticulously. Who would care, honestly?

In his way, he was truly very funny. Unless…unless somewhere, Ginny was still alive and well and sane. Perhaps they were too close together, and tying shoes was the way she kept herself separate. Ginny wasn't afraid to die to stop him.

Luna looked at him from her position, her head damp from the spill on the floor, and saw he was fading. Ginny's head started to droop. To her amazement, Luna realized that she had outlasted him. A half-a-tick later, she realized quite the opposite. She had outlasted Ginny, not Tom, and that alone was on a technicality.

The rules of the game had changed, her mind repeated diligently in the respite, and one must change with the game. There was still hope for Ginny, possibly, she allowed herself some faith. In the midst of the terror, the evidence of the opposite that she was bathing in, Luna found her faith again. This too will pass, like all things would pass. Luna leaned forward and took Ginny's shoulders, shaking them lightly.

"Wake up, wake up," she said gently, polite as ever. "It's a new day today and it's waiting for you."

At least, that's what her mother had woken her up with. Indeed, his eyelids started to flutter. It was all him. Ginny still drifted beneath consciousness, and Luna hoped she hadn't lost her forever.

Moaning Myrtle was mercifully silent. The doings in the room, the screaming, had driven her into hiding.

"Tom, are you all right?" Luna inquired, her hands shaking from the experience. "How can I help you?"

Her mind was clear, free from any schemes. She meant what she said. And from the look that burned in his eyes, she knew it was the most piercing thing she could have done to him. It was frightening, to look him in the eyes and hold no ill will, even after he had almost pushed her too far. He pushed her away.

Well, if he had enough energy to do that, then all was well. Too well. Had he been testing her, a bit of a trial run? Did Ginny really carve into her own flesh or was it another's hand? Was it even her blood? Tricky.

"It could have been worse," she whispered. "Besides, I know you lost your temper. You really do have a horrible temper, you know."

"There, there," he said, distracting her by wiping the tears off her cheeks. "Even though _you_ are the epitome of passive-aggressive behavior, I was not upset. Were you always such a disobedient child?"

The way he said it didn't seem as if she was being scolded. If she ever had felt willful, or rather bad, then this was the moment. She shouldn't have been pleased.

"In my family, it's encouraged."

"It's time you learn that obedience is a virtue," he said, admiring the links of chains down her frail arms. She frowned. Obedience just breeds bed sores and an idle mind.

"Are you obedient?" Luna asked, meeting his gaze.

"When it matters. I am the picture of submission when I have the reigns in my hands."

"Me too," she said, not minding warning him.

"I forget how young you are. Then you remind me," he said, amused. "Now are you hurt?

"You hurt me."

"I know. Are you still in pain?"

She shook her head.

"Do you understand how to avoid a repeat performance in the future?"

"Yes."

"With that knowledge, will you?"

"No," she said.

"Good. I would hate for you to think I am limited to the realm of the mind."

"Since you are not, would you like for me to take you to Madam Pompfrey? However, I don't think she can fix you."

He drew back as if burned.

"I wish you could be, because I think I might need you."

After all, might was not a lie, it was right, so there. Might just be her newest pawn.

"Not in a horrible way, just for…a little while. You are my first friend, you know, and I will miss you if you were to go. I think you want to drive me away, really, with all this." She motioned to the stains on the floor. "Yet you still want to be around me."

"Is that what you think?"

"You just want me to hate you, is all."

"It doesn't matter how much I hurt you," he said coldly. "In the end, you'll adore me just as much. In this place, in this world that's entirely composed of children in every form, that's what you all do."

"I do not adore you," she said. "I like you."

"Then am I the one who needs to be fixed?"

She bit her lip, and found it already thoroughly bit.

"I've always been this way, a little odd, it doesn't matter, and I've been wondering if we could leave now. I could take your book and we'll leave this very moment. You don't have to prove anything, really."

He pulled her wand from behind her ear.

"Let's pretend that was really true and that you didn't need me to be your proof. If I were to really show you everything about me, you would--."

"Hate you?"

"You see me as an idea, I know this. I've indulged you. That is all I need to be. Look at your body, look at your hands, and understand that I do not need you. You are similar to Ginny now, though some part of you pitied her."

"Does she know where you grew up? Does she know how you grew up? Did you tell her?"

"…Yes. It's an exchange, and must be mutual."

"Then I am the same. You must tell me what you've told her. You have to promise."

"That is between the two of us," he motioned to Ginny's body. "However…however, there is something more I could say, if I wanted to test your confession."

How strong is your affection? If it is true, it should survive anything, correct?"

Luna nodded.

"I've already shown you what I am, what I am capable of. But you view it as a spectator. You feel absolved by your distance. I wonder….if I hurt you in a place you thought untouchable?"

"You don't want to hurt me," she said simply. "Not like that."

"Then I must."

"I know."

Of course, she knew the hurt would be brief, in comparison. He was like his ruins, and even though he would harm her, she couldn't help but feel his disaster strongly.

"You're pale," he noticed. "And see, your small hand shakes like a leaf. You don't hide pain as much as your other feelings. See, you are like the rest."

"If you need me to be," she answered. Surround yourself with the mundane, smother any potential only just; it is the worshippers that make the god and lay the mortar.

And Luna, little Luna with little hands, learned how much power she possessed against him when he did not refuse her offer. She shook and he thought it was from pain.

"I believe you have class, Transfiguration, is it, in ten minutes? So do I, apparently. How about we take the day off, you and I? Get to know each other during the day instead of at night."

When she was at home, she used to listen to her father's friends from the nook under the stairs. The undercurrent of something harsh and raw and rich was in their voices, though what they said seemed to be in a strange foreign lingo. She felt rather vulnerable without darkness and stillness to hide her from something so thick it was almost tactile.

"Professor Dumbledore said that was wrong. Anyway, this is such a mess," she protested, not usually so tidy but for bluebeard's sake. It was supposed to be on the inside, usually. "We smell like the mess. Mrs. Norris will scent us out or something else will sniff us out. It's not supposed…I suspect Ginny's not alright…"

"Easily rectified." It was. Soon every last drop was gone and the marks on Ginny's arm went with them. "Afraid of blood, then?"

"How can you be afraid of what's inside of you? Is that strange of me?"

"Not at all. That's the most normal thing you've ever said. Don't make a habit of it."

While the pain was terrible, the sensation of defeat was far worse. She was starting to believe she was in more trouble than Ginny was.

"Do you know this was very cruel? Much more so than what was at the temple."

"Of course I do. In regards to both of you. It's very cruel."

She grew sad at that confession. "Then you have to know it's very wrong."

"Yes. Now, ask yourself, does it really matter? The end of this will wipe out all these transgressions. The beauty of it will. Don't fear pain, Luna. You know you're quite alive then."

She shivered at the familiarity and looked away at Myrtle's stall. He must have been hurt to say something like that, in reaction to pain. Then again, was the woman in the cage ever hurt really? Was she giving reason to deeds that deserved none?

"And when you learn you are safer with me than with them, things will go swimmingly."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked. "You can't help being cruel."

"You make me sound like a victim to my passions. I can be many things for you."

"I don't want a shape-shifter who pretends for me. How about a true friend? I'm sorry, you know, about my remark about fixing you. It's hard, because I want you to be as you are, because you're not supposed to change people, but it won't do, to let you hurt people just because you have to, to make yourself feel better."

"What? Another crack-pot theory about me? I'm certainly on your mind. Didn't I just tell you--?"

"Well, for someone who possesses people and puts chains on someone else, you can see where I get the impression. I'm sure you have your reasons for being cruel and believing you can stand alone, but I'm beginning to wonder if--."

"Use and need are not mutually inclusive, innocent. There's a world of difference between the two."

"So you truly don't need me?"

"I might need you," he said, using her words against her.

"You need everyone to make you a lord, so yes, you really need every single person and that's why you're cruel. You need us to make you special and that's the only way you know how," she answered back. To tell the truth. And she just barely saw the glass refract, bending inwards, and just barely closed the stall door, before the mirrors above the sinks shattered.

And she heard something hit the ground on the other side.

Luna did not think for several minutes, thrown into shock once more. Then she realized that she had killed him. Simply killed, definitely killed, and finally killed him. By pushing him into a rage or a grave doubt…she leaned against the door, terror and sadness spinning through her mind. Ginny had gone with him, too. She couldn't help anyone.

"Tom?" she called. "Please answer."

He didn't and she quickly opened the door, fearful and near real tears.

"Tricked two times in a row. Bless her bleeding heart."

Ginny was unharmed as he was.

"I think we've narrowed down the terminology. Beyond a doubt, you need me. So…" He reached out and pulled her closer. "Behave. Be a good girl. This will all be over soon."

The glass crunched under her feet. Suddenly, she knew how to save both Ginny and Tom. There was one final trick to separate the two and keep Tom with her…in a place he couldn't harm her.

A mirror. Everyone knew that a mirror was just as dangerous as water when it comes to souls. If he really couldn't help himself, then there was no other option. Besides, everyone had a spot of good in them, she simply knew it.

"I will be good, Tom," Luna promised. As will you.

&&&

Credits:

-The title of this chapter is from JRR Tolkien, specifically his work The Hobbit.

-Luna's "This is usually the point in the story where we, the merr-brooding band of explorers, flee. They give a fierce chase but against all the odds, we allude capture," is influenced by a quote from movie Lady in the Water.

-Lilith is from mythology, and she is included in many different texts and stories. She is sometimes considered the first wife of Adam. And there are also references to fairytales as well in this chapter.

- Tom's "to the soul it is death to become water" was said by Heraclitus. "She would have been a good girl if I hadn't been waiting for her all her life" is influenced by A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor.

Replies: (I try to reply through email but if there's a specific question, I will definitely answer it in the next chapter :).)

Rory: I think a lot of your questions will be answered before the CoS storyline is done. As for Neville, well, I have big plans for him in this story :). He's among my favorite characters.

Anonymous: Thanks, Tom Riddle's very fun to write (perhaps too much fun to write ;)) and I'm very glad you like this story! As to your question about editing, yes. I felt like the chapter is too lengthy and I tried to clip some of the details. I promise I won't do it again, since I've been trying to keep the pace down. So no worries about any more editing ;).

Thank you for reading. Any feedback, including concrit, is welcome.


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